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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25105582">Slip</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/StealthyPeacock/pseuds/StealthyPeacock'>StealthyPeacock</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Parahumans Series - Wildbow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, POV First Person, Post-Canon, Post-Ward, Time Travel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 07:01:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>55,296</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25105582</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/StealthyPeacock/pseuds/StealthyPeacock</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Waking up 5 years in the past was not something Rain asked for, but if he could save his friends from years of pain by being there sooner he was willing to make it work. It's not like the apocalypse had even been that bad the first time, right?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Rain O'Fire Frazier/Chastity Vasil</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>141</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Severed - 1.1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The party was still mostly in swing around us, the fire crackling away with the sound of laughter and murmurs of conversation mingling together into a jovial atmosphere I didn’t want to pull myself away from. It reminded me of the simpler, happier parts of my childhood, a bittersweet feeling considering all of the baggage tied up in my past. It was getting late though, and no matter how much I would rather stay longer, going ragdoll in the middle of a field and just leaving me to be someone else's problem wouldn’t be very considerate, so off I’d go. I finished my last drink and scrambled up onto our ride out of there, accepting a helping hand up.</p><p> </p><p><em> Today had been a pretty good day, </em> I thought to myself as I balanced on the back of Doon, one of Rachel’s dogs, tucked between Chastity and Cassie. <em> Tristan is back, kinda, I got to see some of the others from Breakthrough, and nobody started any fights at a mixed hero/villain gathering, not even the Heartbroken.  </em></p><p> </p><p>I waved goodbye to everyone that was still there, getting a few waves returned, and Doon set off. My stomach was still protesting my scramble up from before and my sense of balance was feeling completely off, which didn’t happen often. <em> Maybe drinking doesn’t mix well with my powers. I’ve never really tried to get drunk after triggering so it’s hard to say </em>. </p><p> </p><p>I let my thoughts drift away instead, enjoying the cool wind on my face and watching the moonlight dappled trees fly by.</p><p> </p><p>I was broken from my reverie when Doon took a hard turn, lurching me violently to one side, and my stomach churned unpleasantly. Chastity leaned into me from behind and grabbed Cassie’s shoulder, making a barrier so I wouldn’t fall off, which while I appreciated the help, also meant she was now tightly pressed up against me. I felt my heart speed up,  slamming against my ribcage. Taking the moment for all I’m sure she felt it was worth, she whispered into my ear.</p><p> </p><p>“You have too much to drink, Rain? Didn’t you only have like three beers? I guess you're a total lightweight, huh?” Admittedly, she might have had a point there, since I was definitely drunk, but she was sounding very smug about it. “You look like you could pass out any second. Aren’t you worried I’ll take advantage of you?” Her whisper was laced with more than a healthy amount of mischief.<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>I let out a small chuckle, I noted, “I pass out literally every night at the same time to the second, I’m not too worried you’ll start now. Besides, Cassie will protect my honor, won’t you, Cass?” I thought that was a decent response despite the unfortunate slurring of my words, but the moment was cut short by my stomach giving up on control as I gagged and puked away from everyone, narrowly clearing the dog and our legs. They just laughed at me, which was a great help really. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Yeah, I’m not gonna live that one down for a while. Forget powers, I think drinking and riding a giant dog don’t mix that well now that I’ve tried it. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Ugh,” I groaned, and leaned my head back onto Chastity's shoulder, staring at the almost unmoving sky waiting for the world to stop spinning. “Can I get a time check? I've got to be in the recovery position by 10:27 or I think I'll be choking in my sleep tonight.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, it’s 10:15 now, and we have another 20 minutes until we get to the apartment, so I think that’s gonna be our job,” Cassie replied. “You two just get comfy and I’ll be sure to guard your virtue for you.” She started to chuckle mid sentence, I imagined the idea of protecting me from Chastity was funny to her.</p><p> </p><p>Chastity let loose an over the top sigh of disappointment at that, but rapidly turned her mood around. “Alright, Rain, you heard the woman. Get comfy.” She wrapped her spare arm over me and pulled me close again as she caressed my chest. I let her and leaned into it a bit.</p><p> </p><p><em> I am going to blame the drinking. Definitely not lacking in restraint, no not me, that friendship trial period is going great </em>.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>I didn’t even notice when I faded into sleep, but that pleasant moment was of course immediately followed with dreams of my time in the Fallen,  showcasing some of the most shameful parts of my past and culminating in me standing in front of the chained doors of the mall laughing my ass off. The scenes I got put into were just warped enough to allow me to distance myself from them. The distance didn’t help the feeling of guilt though, details didn’t change the past. And once the agents had their fun at our expense, I was standing in the dream room, staring at Love Lost and Colt.<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“Fuck.” The word carried all the exhaustion I felt after the unpleasant entrance. I stumbled up to the table and leaned my weight on it. I figured I should say something, “Hey, how are you guys?" Silence followed. "Have a good day?” I asked as I stretched my arms out across the table. I thought Love Lost was narrowing her eyes at me, but I couldn’t tell in the low light, and her body language screamed tense. Colt on the other hand looked as though she was about to break into laughter but was keeping it in.</p><p> </p><p>Love Lost’s eyes seemed to soften for a moment, and in her rasping voice she told me, “You shouldn’t drink. It’s not a great habit to pick up, Rain.” My mind rushed back to her dreams, and her reaction clicked into place. Her words had me confused for a moment, it hadn’t occurred to me that I was still feeling the effect of the alcohol. My expression shifted into an awkward grimace.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Jesus Christ, Rain, lets show up shitfaced and talk with the recovering alcoholic, great plan.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>I shifted awkwardly, not really finding a proper response to that feeling — half touched that she cared after everything, and half ashamed at my lack of thinking. “I don’t plan on it,” was what I settled on. I forced myself into an upright position and continued, “It was just a special occasion, and those are pretty few and far between these days anyways, so I don’t think this will happen almost ever. I didn’t actually think I could still be drunk when I got in here, sorry about that. I’m gonna go see if I can’t sober up in this place.”  Love Lost seemed a bit less concerned after that so I chalked it up as a success. </p><p> </p><p>I walked to the back of my room, leaning heavily on the wall until it ended, and then stared out into the dream space. Before the titans, we’d had to fight our way out of the room to see the outside like this, but when I’d cut Gilpatrick out of our cluster, I might have messed things up a bit. The room was still trashed from the last fight we’d had here, and the outside walls of the room were gone. And of course, there was the thing that had made quite a few people upset —  ever since the dreaming sleep we couldn’t put other people into the room anymore. The Warden’s research department had come up with some wild plans to get back in, but the one time I’d let them try it had just stuck the room like it was my night for a week straight; Night after night the dreams returned and Colt had more difficulty trying to change them ever since. After that, it felt clear to me that what had happened wasn’t getting fixed overnight, so they had settled for using Kenzie’s cameras to look in and watch as I followed their instructions and studied different parts of the space, to try to gain some insight on how it all worked.</p><p> </p><p>Focusing on the expanse in front of me, the same sight I had been seeing for months greeted my gaze. There was a deep gash in the crystalline landscape, noticeably not lighting up with electric current like the rest of the surrounding areas would fairly regularly: Fortuna’s etching. A message to something beyond understanding carved into the fabric of powers. Typically stuff like that wasn’t in my wheelhouse; learning about the agents and how they work was more Victoria’s thing, so I didn’t have the slightest idea what made Fortuna decide that carving it was worth being her final act. It had been starting to confound me.</p><p> </p><p><em>What was so important to you about this? And were</em> <em>you the person or the power by the end?</em> I wondered as I started leaning forward to see it a bit better. Suddenly, I felt a shift in my weight, and my foot went over the edge, with me following it. </p><p> </p><p>“Holy Shit! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” The words exited my mouth rapid fire as the wind whistled past my face. Realistically the fall couldn’t have taken more than a few seconds, but with the distance traveled it definitely felt longer. I landed on my face with a crack I figured was my nose, and then began to slide, which turned into a full ass over teakettle tumble down the slope I landed on until I crashed at its base.</p><p> </p><p>I released what breath I had left in me with a sigh that had my ribs screaming in pain. “Jesus fucking Christ, I’m not dead.” </p><p> </p><p>Turning to look up, it struck me that the walls of the pit looked familiar. I could see the room almost two hundred feet up, with Love Lost and Colt staring down at me from the spot where I’d dropped. Another sight came to my attention; there was a large swirling mass of wind filled with chunks of the surrounding landscape headed towards me carving up the walls as it went. At first I lay still, almost shocked, and then I saw the bright crescents it launched from its stormy body at me and it clicked.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Oh great, my power is here to kill me. That’s about what I expected. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>I scrambled up to my feet and turned around, starting to run, narrowly avoiding the blades and preparing to find a way back to the room, but then my mind stopped firing correctly as I saw it — the etching. Next thing I knew, I stood amidst a swirling vortex made up of colors and shapes I couldn’t comprehend, and a sound erupted from all around me that rattled me to my bones.</p><p><br/>
<b>[TIME = SPACE]</b>
</p><p>
  <b> [INVERT SPACE]</b>
</p><p>
  <b>[INVERT TIME]</b>
</p><p> </p><p>Once I regained my bearings, I turned, poised to make my retreat and I saw my power’s avatar had also frozen. It began to glow with that same strange light, and then a blade flew out of its core, made from much the same, and sliced the ground next to my feet. I tried to move carefully so as not to disturb it, but I tripped on the uneven surface of the carved ground and once again I fell. </p><p> </p><p>I heard the cracking sound I knew signified a break from my power, and I got sucked through. I felt my consciousness fade.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
I awoke, startled by the sound of loud repetitive beeping. Turning my head I saw a digital clock face staring at me. I reached over to silence it, and that’s when I noticed things getting strange. <em> Why the hell is my arm so short? </em> I finished silencing the clock and took note of the time — 9:45.  <em> I haven’t slept past six o’clock in over a year. What's going on? </em> Taking in the rest of the room, some things were oddly familiar.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Wait, I recognize that cross, and these blankets, this was how my room used to look. What’s going on? </em>
</p><p><em><br/>
</em> <em><br/>
</em>I got up, approached the dresser, found the small mirror there, and took in my appearance. I couldn’t be much taller than five feet; My hair was cut short and there were still traces of baby fat on my cheeks, which lacked the scars I had become used to. Notably, my nose looked like it hadn’t ever been broken, pointing straight like it had years before.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Jesus Christ, I’m a kid! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Trying to get a grip, I looked around the room, found a calendar and checked the date. I always crossed out the days in the evening before bed, making today February 24th 2011. My thirteenth birthday, and the day the Simurgh hit Canberra so hard they called the city a loss and slapped a dome on top of it, a final grave for the city. <em>At least the higher ups should be occupied by that today.</em> It was then that I remembered the words Victoria had burned into our minds — Master-Stranger protocols.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I should be using them right? How does that work if it’s just me? </em>
</p><p><em><br/>
</em> <em><br/>
</em>“Okay, Rain, calm down, just breathe, take stock of what’s happening around you,” I whispered to myself. I felt a little silly about it, but my nerves were getting a little frayed by all of the details in the room being accurate to my memories, and talking to myself was at least a little self soothing even if it solved nothing.</p><p> </p><p>As I stood staring blankly at my dresser, a knock at the door grabbed my attention.</p><p> </p><p>“Rain, are you up yet? I know it’s school break but I’m not letting you sleep past 10 o’clock.” My Aunt was on the other side of the door.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Crap, I’ve got to get out of here. I’ll just try to get her off my back and slip out. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Err, Uh, Yes, Auntie, I’m up, Just getting dressed for the day before I come down,” I lied, standing in pajamas that hadn’t fit me in years. “Won’t be much longer.” I did my best to sound like the respectful nephew she had been used to. It wasn’t my best work, but I figured she bought it as I heard her footsteps trail down the hallway.</p><p> </p><p>With that I reached into the dresser, quickly searching for an outfit that would suit the weather. I glanced outside, taking note of the lack of snow on the ground. It had been a fairly mild winter that year, another damning detail. Pulling on some pants, a flannel, and a light gray coat, I figured that was enough that I wouldn’t freeze my ass off when I went outside. With that I exited my room and went downstairs toward the kitchen where my family would be.<br/>
<br/>
I walked into the room, taking in details, trying to find something that was off, a slip that could give me a cue that this wasn’t real. Of course, it couldn't be that simple; nothing stuck out as off. Even small details like the nick on the fridge handle were right. My uncle sat at the table, face taciturn as he sipped at a mug of black coffee. My aunt was doing the dishes; I noticed she was moving slower than she usually had, and I recalled this was just before her cancer diagnosis. Allie and my other cousins weren’t present, but that was more the norm for this time of day; they were likely away from the house. The longer I was up the more another possibility was creeping into my head. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Could I actually be back somehow? How could that even be possible? No cape has ever managed true time travel before, at least as far as I know. I suppose I wouldn’t spread the news around either. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>There was a radio in the corner of the room droning along in the background, filling the room with a newscaster’s voice.</p><p> </p><p>“Canberra is currently receiving aid from the Protectorate and the Guild, but the question on everyone's mind is hanging in the air: Where is Scion? The other heroes can only hold out against the Simurgh for so long, will their efforts prevail?” The sound cut and I heard Elijah Mathers begin to offer his two cents.</p><p> </p><p>“The non-believers are having a rough time today aren’t they? The Lord has pushed us one step closer to the end today!”</p><p> </p><p>I stopped listening to the words then; the sense of deja vu I felt hearing it was near overwhelming. I felt the need to keep up appearances, so I echoed the words that left me that day all those years ago.<br/>
<br/>
“Looks like my birthday is starting off right. The fools aren’t going to accomplish anything, no one can beat her. Even if they think they have it, she always turns it around on them,” I said with forced glee, my mouth going dry as though the words were pulling the moisture from it. My aunt gave a small chuckle at my words; I imagined she agreed. I searched myself, trying to keep composed. My mind went to a moment from the fight against the titans — Victoria carrying me through the air as the blades in my hand sliced the Simurgh in half — and remembering that helped keep me collected for now.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Acting like you used to for a bit won’t kill you, Rain. You won’t become Fallen by spouting a few shitty things to keep from seeming off. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>I made my way directly to the door and started to pull on my boots. As I laced them up I told them, “I’m going to head out for a little while, I’ll be back around dinner time.” </p><p> </p><p>My aunt gave me a look but refrained from commenting. Back then, they never seemed to care where I went so long as nobody came and complained about it, I walked out into the yard, feeling the cold air blow past my face, and headed towards the forest the settlement had been built next to. I hurried, doing my best to put some space between me and anyone else. The walk was quiet, except for the splashing of the stream that curved through the woods, and the sound of my footsteps against the cold dead grass. </p><p> </p><p>I walked into a small clearing in the center of the forest. It had served as a place I could go to get away from everything when I was younger. After my parents traded me over to the Mathers branch I had spent the fall and winter fairly lonely, with few others I could turn to for companionship, so I’d made an escape for myself here.</p><p> </p><p>I looked around and listened carefully, and once I felt sure I was alone I began to check for my powers. I started with my emotion power, casting it out over the ground, and felt it respond. It was strong, like the time I’d received Love Lost’s tokens, but I wasn’t boiling with rage, more anxious than anything else. Going through the list, I tried to use my mover power, and an unfamiliar instinct led to me walking up the steepest side of a boulder.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> That was Love Lost’s power, not mine, why the hell can I do that? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>I didn’t stop to ponder it too much, not wanting to have it run out on me, so I jumped off, stopping myself mid air before twisting out into a rolling landing on the ground.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> This shouldn’t be happening, the closest I ever got to something like this was after Snag… Love Lost should be okay, right? I didn’t see her get hurt. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Pulling on my tinker power, I felt that the ideas were more in depth than usual, and actually fairly good. Lastly, I willed out a blade and my power obliged. I threw it towards the boulder and it carved right through leaving a line through it. I ran up and kicked the line and heard the rock begin to slide down, I had cut through six feet of stone; far more than I could usually muster even on my best days.<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>All of my powers were working far better than they ever had. Sure, today was my day in the rotation, but this was off the charts.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Do the agent’s think I’m the only one left? I don’t know why else this would be happening. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>I decided I’d consider the agents confused, the other possibility weighing on my mind was something I wasn’t ready to consider yet. It would be best to just wait until the night where it would be settled in the room. I had some questions I could answer more readily to keep me busy.</p><p> </p><p>I wanted to see how far this boost to my powers went. I made as many blades as my power would provide and launched them into a tree; the limit was around eight. I tossed a handful of small rocks at the tree and it shattered along the lines falling into pieces.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Could I manage to make that weird blade my power used to send me here? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>I began to focus on a blade, trying to see if I could draw out that power. I thought I saw the tip change a bit, but it was really draining. Deep in my focus on the task at hand, I received a rude awakening.</p><p> </p><p>“Holy shit, kid, what was that?” I heard a familiar voice cry out from behind me. I jerked back in surprise, turning around to get a look at who was here. Staring at me was a tall man in his early thirties with dark hair and a beard to match. He was wearing an old faded flannel shirt with rolled up sleeves showing off the tattoos covering his arms. It was Matthew McVeay, my father’s best friend and my godfather, better known to most by his cape name Eligos. </p><p> </p><p>I’d spent the previous summer with him hunting in the woods for months. It sucked, but that was more due to the hunting itself, and when we came back it was only because the exchange of us to the Mathers had been finalized. He was a man I had admired when I was younger, and we had been fairly close until a time a few months from now when he went to Brockton Bay with Elijah and never came back, captured by the Protectorate there. I’d never seen him again, and had thrown myself deep into the Fallen to not stay so alone.</p><p> </p><p>It took me a moment to realize I had frozen in place and hadn’t responded to his question. I had to think fast so I opened my mouth and spoke, hardly thinking, “Damn it, Uncle Matt, you ruined the surprise. Tonight was gonna be the perfect time too.” I threw the blade I was holding into the ground as I said it with as much frustration I could convey.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Okay, Rain, work with this and you might not get dragged off to the leadership and have to fight your way out. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“You have powers! When did that happen? Jeez kid, it kinda looks like mine does.” He ran over and gripped me lightly by my shoulders. “You’d make me wait with the rest of these people? What gives? Did you stop trusting your Uncle Matt?” he said, the humor in his tone evident.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> If we are being completely honest, yes, completely. You’re a Fallen, same as the rest of them, and why does the reminder of that hurt? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“It was a surprise! It was gonna be perfect. I've been practicing all week and now you had to show up before I was ready to show off!”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, don’t tear my head off here, Rain, how should I have known? Here I am tracking you into the middle of the woods in the dead of winter since you can’t stay in your damn house, just so I can take you to your gift, and you start yelling at me. Some godson you are.”</p><p> </p><p>“You got me a gift?” I asked. Of course, I should have remembered that he had indeed given me a gift that year. It had been one I cherished until Gold Morning, when I had to leave it behind. I had to take any avenue available to keep him from focusing on what he had just seen.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah I did, now come on. I’ll keep quiet for you so I don’t spoil the surprise you apparently care so much about. A few hours won't make much of a difference in the end I suppose.”</p><p> </p><p>I walked over and followed him as my mind began racing. Seeing my godfather again and hearing his voice, I was beginning to come to terms with the idea I had been holding at arm's length.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Holy shit! I’m in the past! This is real! And great, I blew my cover an hour deep so now I have to get the fuck out of here fast. I can’t make contact with Mama Mathers again or all the bullshit it took to break that will be for nothing. I need to leave in the next few hours before anyone catches on. Luckily, I think Uncle Matt might be about to help me there. </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>We were approaching Uncle Matt’s home, a farmhouse with chipping white paint and an old barn filled with tools and old cars. It was the barn we were headed towards, and with a flick of his wrist, Uncle Matt made a blade of wind that pushed rather than cut, opening the door and sliding it along its rails. Inside, centrally placed was an old dirt bike. Walking over, he gestured to it and began to speak.</p><p> </p><p>“Behold your new steed. Got her in rough shape but I patched her up for you myself. Care to give it a look?” </p><p> </p><p>I rushed over and gave him a hug, and he mussed up my hair with a light chuckle. The moment felt just like it had the first time around. Despite everything, I was briefly touched by the effort he must have put in, but those feelings gave way to something closer to guilt, leaving me more mixed up about it than I had expected. </p><p> </p><p><em>He’s Fallen, a murderer; stop feeling grateful.</em> <em>Why should I feel bad about betraying his trust like this? In the end; it doesn’t matter what he was to me, right? He’s hurt a lot of innocent people.</em></p><p> </p><p>I let go, ran over to the bike and started looking it over. “Uncle Matt, it’s awesome! When did you even have the time to work on this?” I asked, doing my best to keep him in the moment; if he wasn’t distracted he might try to ask questions about my  powers, which I really didn’t need right now. As I looked the bike over my tinker power fired with fast and dirty concepts to jury-rig my tech into it.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh you know, here and there when I had a break in my work. I figured it was worth it since you keep talking about wanting to fix one yourself and reading all of those books on repair. It’s old, so things may go bad in it every now and then, but from here on out it's your job to fix it. Just think of it as a learning experience and gift in one.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> And damn did I learn back then, the thing blew a gasket on my second ride. Which might be a problem if I try riding it out of here. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Would it be alright if I looked it over in here so I can get familiar with the build of it?” I asked, “I can’t really do that back at the house since I don’t have any tools yet.”</p><p> </p><p>Uncle Matt looked perplexed for a second, likely surprised I wasn’t going to hop on for a ride first thing, but in the end he gave me a shrug. “Knock yourself out, Rain, if that’s what you want to do, and you can always use my tools. After all, how can you learn if you don’t have any of your own? Now, I have some things to take care of for the leadership today so I’m gonna have to leave ya here. I should be done and back by supper if you’re still here.”</p><p> </p><p>I was already over by the tools looking for the things I would need to fix the gasket. I turned around and nodded to him. “Okay, I’ll see you when you get back.” The lie came swiftly from my lips, and I felt even more guilt pile on top of the rest, settling in my gut. I turned and went back to collecting tools and brought them over to set to work.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Gonna have to work fast if I want to get to the Kansas City PRT before nightfall. </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'd like to thank the kind folks from the cauldron discord that helped unofficially beta this for me especially Juff, your help made me feel good enough about this fic to publish for the first time.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Severed - 1.2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As I worked on the engine I thought over what my next move should be after reaching some semblance of safety. Of course, assuming the Kansas City PRT wasn’t compromised would be pretty naive of me, due to its proximity to the settlement. Staying there any longer than necessary would be a bad idea if I didn’t want to have my location leaked and get dragged back to the Mathers in a matter of days. So that raised the question of where the hell I should be trying to go. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> All of my friends don’t know who I am and I don't even know where most of them are right now. Even if I managed to convince them, who would actually be in a place to help me? Tristan and Byron haven’t triggered yet and won’t for almost a year. Sveta is stuck in the asylum. Kenzie's like what? Six years old? I can’t go dragging her into this mess. Oh! Ashley’s in New Hampshire I think? She is a villain right now though, and unmedicated. Could I even get help from her?  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Thinking about my friends made me realize all of them had been in pretty awful situations and that was before Gold Morning. How could I even think about putting more burdens on them! And as I recalled details about the events to come, I began feeling ill as I realized damn near all the people I cared about were looking down the barrel of some serious trouble.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Goddamn it! If I don’t help Ashley the Nine are going to kill her soon. I only met her after she got brought back, If I helped her now would I be preventing my friend from ever existing? Fuck, I’ve never been good with stuff like this. I bet Victoria would be able to help me make sense of this. Shit, Victoria is in the Nine’s path too isn’t she. I know they go to Brockton Bay after the place gets wrecked by Leviathan that was what a couple months from now? I remember the Crowley’s threw a huge party when it happened.  Oh God! Right, Her sister is going to turn her body into… </em>
</p><p> </p><p>My hands stilled from working as I recalled the day she told us what had happened to her. The outline of her mangled forcefield framed by the downpour as she fought to keep composed, hiding her face beneath her hood. It had been so raw. I hadn’t wanted to press for any details that were not immediately relevant and upset her, and before she ever explained it further Goddess happened.<br/><br/></p><p>
  <em> I can’t let any of that happen again! I have to help them! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>One after another the situations my friends were in went through my mind at a fever pitch, tearing down the composure I was trying to keep.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Seeing Tristan for the first time in months last night was a relief, but I couldn't forget how he’d wound up like that. I tried to support him through how he was feeling, but it must have been too little too late, could I manage to help him if I got involved sooner? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Sveta can’t even control her body right now. I helped her get control once, maybe I could give her some freedom sooner than before.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> All that Kenzie really wants is to have people who care about her, so why should I leave her stuck alone if I can be there for her. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>It was then that the worst realization yet hit me and sent me reeling. I began to pace the room, my hands clenching tight around the tools in my hands.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Chastity is stuck with Heartbreaker. I have to get her out of there! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>As if I wasn’t feeling bad enough before, I was now feeling like someone had put my chest into a vice. Living with Heartbreaker had been hellish for her and her siblings. She had only spoken about it with any real detail a few times before, but what she told me was horrifying. Heartbreaker had to go, it didn’t matter what stood in my way I’d see it done.<br/><br/></p><p>Despite my conviction, it was then my own predicament hit me like a brick. I wasn’t in any position to help. I was in the middle of enemy territory hundreds of miles away from anyone I cared about and my options to solve that were all longshots. As the nature of my own situation sunk in my hands began to shake slightly. I started to lose control of my breath as it became rushed and shallow.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Christ! What am I supposed to do? Just go and kill every threat to my friends and single-handedly solve all their problems for them? How am I going to make this work? Fuck! Like I can even get that far, I'm screwed right out the gate! I’m just going to wind up dead before I can save anyone! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>That thought brought me back to a similar moment around a year ago.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>I’d been sitting down in a chair opposite Ms. Yamada, in one of our last solo sessions during the transition to group therapy. I’d just unloaded all the stress that had been piling up inside of me : the dreams, my cluster, my weakness, the Fallen, and my only friend being stuck with them. My worries that Erin could get hurt by the Fallen as a way to get to me were eating away at me. I wanted to get her away from the settlement to someplace safer, but she wouldn’t leave her family behind, firmly keeping her in the line of fire. I felt completely trapped with no way out, and I was doubting I would be getting out of my situation alive, so all I felt like I could do was focus on minimizing the number of people that would go down with me. And I couldn’t even manage that. Putting how I was feeling into words was helpful, at least a little bit. I slumped down back into the chair.</p><p> </p><p>“I think it might help to simplify what's going on here with something a bit more mundane. Rain, do you know what they tell people in a plane when something goes wrong and the oxygen masks drop?”</p><p> </p><p>The seemingly unrelated question caught me a bit off guard. I shook my head. I’d never actually ridden on a plane before so it was uncharted territory. At my response, Ms. Yamada continued.</p><p> </p><p>“First put on yours, then help others. You need to take care of yourself first before you move on to do anything else. And during the times you feel like you can’t do that, remember, you have people in your corner too. You don’t have to solve everything by yourself. Sometimes you may need someone else to help you with your mask.”</p><p> </p><p>I thought of the others in the therapy group, the times Tristan had offered me help and the others echoed the sentiment only for me to turn them away. For the first time in a long while I accepted what I had been holding back every time they made their offers.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Maybe I don’t need to do this alone. </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The idea was simple in concept and seemed almost like common sense, but in the thick of things, when there were troubles on all sides, it was hard to keep that in mind. With a deep breath I forced my hands to stop shaking and returned to working on the bike; I could not afford to waste any of the time I had.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I need to focus. Ms. Yamada was right then and it’s still true now; I’m going to have to get some help for myself first or I won't be able to help any of them. Thinking about it like that, is there anybody who I know that really has their life even close to together right now in 2011? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The only people who came to mind were less than ideal, but the Undersiders wouldn’t just kill me right? Tattletale had helped out in the past — well, future now. Regardless, she’d been a villain then and we still worked together against Love Lost and Cradle when my whole cluster was out to kill me, or as Chastity had refused to stop referring to it, the Clusterfuck.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Maybe it wouldn’t be an awful idea to ask her for help. Her power could probably even sort out whatever the hell happened to put me here. Not to mention they saved Chastity from Heartbreaker the first time. I could just push the timeline up a bit without too much trouble, right? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t as though I could afford to be picky about who could help me anyways, so Brockton Bay it was. Victoria lived there and Ashley wasn’t that far away either. I would be close enough to help them once I was on my feet. The Protectorate had a decent presence there anyways, so it might be fairly easy to parlay some travel to get there from the PRT. Though I wondered what sort of promises I would have to make to get them to do it. I would just have to cross that bridge when I got there. There was no such thing as free lunch anyways, I couldn’t just expect to get help for nothing.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>It took a little over three hours to get my bike in order, with a small tinkertech addition, but I’d managed to get it ready without too much trouble. Since Uncle Matt worked on cars in the barn, there were plenty of tools at my disposal and enough spare parts to fix the engine before it became an issue. The tinkering, however, was rather rough to say the least, but it had also been the fastest I’d ever put something like it together.</p><p> </p><p>I had rigged up a small arm to the right side of the bike's frame by the handlebars, with just enough length to reach the throttle while keeping slightly bent, and hooked it into a tangle of exposed wire leading to a rudimentary version of my tactile pads. When the pad was connected to my thigh I could control the bike using only the movements of my foot; up and down for throttle control and left and right to turn. I knew that if anybody caught on to me leaving and managed to find me I’d have to fight, and I figured it would be hard to throw my blades and drive the bike at the same time. This was my solution.</p><p> </p><p>My biggest hurdle was still before me, but I started to think I could actually pull this off. I topped off the gas tank of the bike with a plastic gas can that sat in the corner of the barn; I had around 80 miles between me and Kansas City and I wanted to make sure I had enough fuel to actually make it there once I set out. </p><p> </p><p>I looked around for a helmet but turned up empty handed. I’d wanted it  more to hide my features than to actually protect me on the ride, so I made do with tying some old oil stained rags across my face. I imagined I must have looked like some outlaw in one of the old cowboy movies Erin had shown me. With the last of my few preparations made, I mounted the bike and started it up as I connected the pad to my leg. Once I was settled on I moved my foot towards the ground like I was pressing a gas pedal, the arm answered and I was off.</p><p> </p><p>I wasn’t without my advantages in my escape. Uncle Matt's farm house was out on the edge of the settlement, so I would only have to make a straight shot away without having to go through the more crowded areas. I rode out to the west along a dirt road flanked by ditches on either side that protected sprawling fields of dirt that would be sprouting with corn by midsummer. The bike went at a decent speed, and it was handling well as it turned up a small trail of dust behind me. I wasn’t able to stay on the road for long though; I saw dust rising up further down the road and heard the distant hum of another engine. I turned off of the road and went down the side of the ditch on my right and cut the engine. I just hoped that the vehicle would be passing by quickly enough to not note anything out of the ordinary.</p><p> </p><p>As I waited at the bottom of the ditch I heard the engine get closer and closer until it reached its peak. The smell of burning diesel hit my nose and dust was churned up in the air all around me, forcing me to close my eyes to keep from being blinded. It continued to rumble past, and once it sounded more distant I peeked up over the edge. I sighed with relief, it was an old brown pick-up truck loaded with a few teenagers, some of the older Fallen kids. Around a minute after it passed I figured I would be far enough away, and started back out along the road pushing the bike as hard as I could. Fifteen minutes later I made it to the threshold of freedom, Route 169. Two lanes of sun bleached pavement, stretching all the way to the horizon. It was my route for getting out of Kansas.</p><p> </p><p>As I rode north I found myself envying, not for the first time, all of the capes that could fly. Riding the dirt bike along a long flat road for hours on end wasn’t exactly mentally stimulating, and I imagined that a birds eye view would make it a bit less mundane. The road was clear of other people as I rode past the empty farmland that covered the majority of the region. I couldn’t even manage to enjoy the ride, stressed with the possibility that someone could come driving up behind me and turn my escape into a fight at any time, though around an hour deep into the journey those feelings were fading into the background. If anybody was coming after me I had secured a decent lead over them.</p><p> </p><p>Once I reached the halfway point on the ride the sun began to sink over the horizon. As night fell the cold of the winter night followed, chilling me down to my bones as the wind battered me. I wished I’d dressed warmer in the morning, but going back for a heavier coat would have put me closer to the center of the settlement, a risk that I couldn’t have taken. I told myself I only had to bear it for a bit longer, so I did my best to ignore my discomfort, tucking my hands into my pockets so they wouldn't freeze. </p><p> </p><p>The highway passed a handful of towns on the way north but largely strayed towards their outer edges, swerving around them, likely to cut down on through traffic and noise. That changed as I got closer to the city. Gradually, the mostly empty sprawl that had surrounded the route gave way to stores and warehouses. I was coming up on the outskirts of Olathe, a city at the southern tip of around 20 miles of urban sprawl between me and the heart of Kansas City, if the signs were accurate. I’d pushed myself to get there as fast as possible, but it was only once I actually arrived at the edge of the city that a fairly major problem struck me.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I don’t know where anything is in this city. I only knew where to go to get here; I can’t even guess at what part of the city the PRT is based out of. Not to mention, I’m probably going to be pulled over for driving a dirt bike through a massive city anyways. Hell, I’m a kid again, if anyone saw what I’m doing they’d call the police on me no question. I’m not going to get very far like this am I? Do I call myself in or something? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>I was feeling like a bit of an idiot. I at least had the benefit of having time traveled into a nightmare scenario that morning to blame for a lack of planning. I pulled off of the first exit in the city and went down the road looking for a decent place to stop and work things out. A few moments after I turned down the road I saw an illuminated sign with bright yellow lettering that read The Great Mall. It made me feel like a coward, but I turned and drove over the median and went the other way back up the road. I was already having a bad day. I was not going anywhere near a fucking mall. Cars around me honked at my retreat as I cut them off to cross over, but I couldn't bring myself to care. </p><p> </p><p>I found a gas station a few minutes up the road that I decided to make do with. The walls of the building were red and sprinkled with various bits of graffiti; nothing major, just the simple black tags you usually see when there were enough teenagers in an area with access to spray paint. I parked the bike right by the door, not wanting to leave myself without a means of quick exit. I dismounted and walked in, and as I pushed open the door I heard the chime that let the employees know someone had come in.</p><p> </p><p>The warmth of the room wrapped around me, but I was still shivering a bit after the ride and my ears were so cold they ached as they thawed out. I approached the desk where the only staff member I could see was stationed: a woman with blonde hair up in a bun, wearing a pair of glasses and a red polo shirt with black pants combo I gathered was her uniform. She eyed me dubiously, which considering I walked in there looking like the oil pan bandit I couldn’t blame her. I decided on a course of action and began to set it into motion.</p><p> </p><p>“Can I help you, kid?” she asked, looking at me from across the counter.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, Miss, uh”—I checked her name tag—“Miss Kathy. Do you have a phone here I could use? It's a bit of an emergency.” I did my best to play into being a younger kid and I put how much the day had  worn me down into my voice.</p><p> </p><p>Her expression shifted from suspicion to concern rapidly as she began to reach toward the landline on the wall. “Are you okay? Is there anybody else with you?” </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Do I sound that bad... Yeesh. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>I replied quickly. “I’m not hurt. No, miss, it’s just me.” I stretched my hand for the handset. “Can you dial 911 for me?”</p><p> </p><p>I figured she did because she passed me the phone with it already ringing. I turned away from her toward the door and I felt the phone's spiral cable stretch against my back.</p><p> </p><p>On the line, a man with a deep voice asked, “911 what’s your emergency?” </p><p> </p><p>I whispered into the phone, attempting not to be overheard. “Hello, I need to reach the PRT. I am a recent trigger, I just escaped a Fallen settlement, I could really use some help right now.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>I had some mixed feelings about reaching out to the PRT for help. On one hand they were my best ticket out of the city; I had no money and no documentation, so getting any transport without breaking the law would be a pipe dream without them. On the other hand, I didn’t really trust them as an organisation. While the details had never been made explicit to me, I knew that Cauldron was heavily involved in their operations, and based on what I knew about them that was not a point in their favor.</p><p> </p><p>I knew that not everyone in the PRT was part of their schemes, but something on the scale that they operated on required a lot of people looking the other way when something wrong was happening. The idea of working with the same organization that hurt so many people, including some of my friends, left me feeling dissatisfied and angry.  To become part of that problem, even in a small way, was like putting even more blood on my hands; after all, cooperating would make me another person looking away, wouldn’t it?</p><p> </p><p>Along with my moral reservations, I wasn’t sure how much they would try to ask of me. Trying to recruit me into the Wards was almost a given, and I could work with that, but my main concern was the oversight that would follow. If they tried to place me into foster care, things could get complicated for me fast. I needed to be able to move freely and I doubted that I would be able to do that under their watch.</p><p> </p><p>I was leaning hard against the counter, staring out the front door, keeping an eye out for the van they described to me over the phone when my thoughts were interrupted by Kathy. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey kid, I’m not clear on what’s going on with you, but you seem dead on your feet. Let me get you something to eat.”</p><p> </p><p>I opened my mouth to turn down her offer, but my stomach decided against that plan and started to rumble loudly. She must have heard because she just nodded her head as though the matter was settled and started grabbing some food out from under the heat lamp.</p><p> </p><p>“That would be very kind of you, Miss, thank you.” I decided to save myself the embarrassment of trying to turn her offer down if it was clear I hadn’t eaten. She put a sandwich and a cup of water in front of me. It was odd, after months of living in the slowly recovering city, with winter pushing supplies to the breaking point, even a gas station sandwich seemed too big a gift to accept out of hand.</p><p> </p><p>She shrugged at me with a small grin on her face. “Just don’t go telling my boss and we’re even.”  I smiled back, but with the makeshift mask on my face I wasn’t sure she could tell. Speaking of the mask, it made eating the meal pretty awkward. I wasn’t going to just take it off and blow my sub par cover, but the rags kept trying to get between my mouth and the sandwich, making the entire process slower than I would have liked. </p><p> </p><p>I was finishing the last of the sandwich when the PRT van pulled up to the front of the building, its headlights shining brightly straight at the door. The van didn’t look official, just a standard black van like a small company would make shipments with, but the license plate matched what the dispatcher told me to look for. A man exited the passenger side of the van and approached the door. He definitely looked the part of a plain clothes agent: he had dark close cropped hair and was dressed in business casual with a dark windbreaker over top that reminded me of what Gilpatrick had worn in the dreamscape without the PRT branding.</p><p> </p><p>He stepped around the bike and opened the door, as he approached the counter the man set his eyes on me.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank goodness we found you. Do you know how worried we were?” The man launched into his act without a hitch, which didn’t leave me with much time to formulate a response. I settled on a classic response to the unexpected.</p><p> </p><p>“Uhh, sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>My lacking response did little to hinder the agent and he went right back into his performance.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, what’s done is done. Let’s get going.” He turned to Kathy and continued, “Thank you so much for keeping an eye on him until we could get here, I really appreciate it.”</p><p> </p><p>He placed a hand on my shoulder and began to lead me from the store before another word could be put in. He opened up the side doors of the van and gestured for me to enter. I hesitated for a moment before asking, “The bike. Could you help me put it in the van? I shouldn’t leave it behind.” </p><p> </p><p>The agent set about helping me, and we were in the van and on the road in less than a minute. The inside of the van was minimalist, a hard plastic cover lining the floor,and two long benches on either side with an aisle in the middle where my bike was situated, blocking half of the rear cabin. I settled on the bench, which I normally would have found pretty uncomfortable, but after riding a dirtbike for almost four hours with only a short break midway, the solid support beneath me felt heavenly. I knew I wasn’t out of the woods yet but it finally felt like I could breathe, a rest in my retreat.</p><p> </p><p>The man sat on the bench opposite from me, and his intense focus settled on me once more. Without other people around he held himself with a more professional demeanor, but he managed to keep the atmosphere friendly.</p><p> </p><p>“Now that we are alone, let me introduce myself. I’m Agent Joseph Warren, and I’m here because I am Department thirty-seven’s head of Parahuman outreach.” He reached into his pocket and flipped open his badge as he spoke. “I was told you contacted us because you recently triggered and made an escape from a Fallen settlement, is that all correct?”</p><p> </p><p>I almost subconsciously sat up straighter as I gave my reply, trying to keep up some composure. “Yes, sir, that’s right.” </p><p> </p><p>“Impressive that you managed that. We have had problems getting hostages away from them for years. What branch were you with?”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Fuck. Cutting straight to what complicates this aren’t you, Agent Warren.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“I guess they pay more attention to hostages than me. I was with the Mathers to the south.” I did my best to keep the discomfort off my face; the interview had only just started and it was already not going very well for me.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Lying to the PRT could make things worse for me down the line, but if they are worth their salt I’m probably about to hit a roadblock for this. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Almost immediately, Agent Warren turned his head toward the front of the van where there was a small opening to the front and spoke firmly. “MSP Three, close the cab.” The thick glass slider rose up to the top, sealing us off. I flinched as the glass made its contact with the roof of the car, making a loud thud. He turned back to me and put on a disarming smile. </p><p> </p><p>“Sorry, that must seem odd. Don’t be worried, it’s just a standard security policy to protect your identity. The fewer people that know the details of your background, the easier it is to keep your identity safe,” he lied smoothly to me. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> MSP, it’s got to be Master-Stranger Protocols. Not sure what the three means though, but if I can’t get out of the city because of this… Keep cool, Rain, don’t tip your hand here. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, okay. You had me worried for a second there. So what would you like to know then?” </p><p> </p><p>“Not too much, just a few formalities we have to go through before we get to HQ. First off, have you ever been party to criminal activity under the Fallen?” From the way Agent Warren asked it didn’t seem like he expected the answer to be yes. I opened my mouth to respond, ready to explain my past out of the force of habit, but I stopped short.</p><p> </p><p><em> Wait, it’s 2011. Everything at the mall hasn’t happened yet. It would be years before that would have happened. What the hell do I tell him? It's not right to try and skip out on what I did but what can I do, own up to a crime that hasn’t even happened yet? </em> </p><p> </p><p>I cleared my throat before I began to speak, “No, not yet, I was too young to be a soldier. If I stayed any longer after getting my powers they probably would have made me join them.”</p><p><br/><br/>Before the words left my mouth I could already feel guilt clawing at me from inside. How could I deny what I did! So many people, good people who never deserved what I did to them, died because of the choices I made! What right did I have to lie about it just because it would complicate things for me. Pulling on half truths wouldn’t make me any less of a liar.  Before I beat her in the raid on Teacher’s compound, Mama Mathers told me I would burn in hell forever— It was the first time in a long while that I could fully agree with her words that day.</p><p> </p><p>“If I may ask, is that why you left the Fallen today?” he prodded carefully, like he wanted to be sure I wouldn’t fly off the handle at further questioning. I realized I was showing my tension a bit too close to the surface and forced myself to relax, consciously lowering my shoulders and working to make my expression more calm than I actually was.</p><p> </p><p>“It was a part of it. Honestly, it was a lot of stuff piled together that made me leave. How things were around there just wasn’t sitting right with me.” At least I didn’t have to lie about that.</p><p> </p><p>“Could you elaborate on that for me? It’s preferable that I have a more full idea of what was going on to tell the higher ups.” </p><p> </p><p>To be honest, as inconvenient as his request felt to me it wasn’t often people asked me for the full reason I left. It was always why I hadn’t left sooner, as though I was always aware of how wrong things were in the Fallen and not born into it. It was a little refreshing to be asked about my reasons with a more positive angle. I was really feeling the need for a small kindness and I would take one where I could find it.</p><p> </p><p>“Agent Warren, sir, to be frank there were a lot of things around there that bugged me until I was completely unsettled by everyone I knew. The small details around there that were off kept piling up until I was staring at a mountain of them, and it was too much for me to ignore anymore. For a group that would quote the bible at me all the time they really liked ignoring what it said. There’s only so many times you can have somebody say ‘love thy neighbor’ to you after talking about killing the non-believers in the same breath before it gets weird.” A humorless laugh left me as I continued, “And as I started feeling that way it was a lot harder to get behind the whole mission they thought we were on. Add in getting abandoned by my parents last year and thrown to the Mathers, I couldn’t take it. After I got my powers I knew once they found out they would make me a soldier and I got caught today. It was either run or work with them, and I refuse to do that.” </p><p> </p><p>The agent sat still, taking in my words. I imagined he was considering how likely it was for me to be lying to him. It made me wonder how I could confirm Mama Mathers didn’t have a connection to me with her power. I hoped that was the only reason for them to be so cautious with me, but if I tried to push that I was fine it could make me seem more suspect. It was a hell of a catch twenty two to be stuck in. After a moment, Agent Warren returned his attention to me.</p><p> </p><p>“Well then, let me be the first to say you made a good choice today. A lot of people would just ignore all of that and stay with the familiar. The PRT will do our best to help you. Now, how exactly should I refer to you? Would you be comfortable giving me your name?” </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> If I am going to be working for them it's pointless to hide too much. Besides, what would they find? I don’t even have a birth certificate. As far as records go I’m a blank page.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Oh sorry, I should have told you already. Bad manners on my part. My name is Rain Frazier, but in front of others just call me Precipice; it’s what I want for a cape name. It isn’t too early to pick one right?”</p><p> </p><p>It probably was too early to try, but being Precipice was important to me. When I took that name I finally started helping other people instead of making things worse for them. I couldn’t stand to lose the one part of me that left me feeling good about myself.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The rest of the ride to the station was filled mostly with Agent Warren engaging in what I imagined would be subtle testing for Mama Mathers’s connection, explaining the forms I would be filling out at the station, and what processes I’d need to go through before I could be admitted to the Wards. It was during this that I got the opportunity to voice my one request.</p><p> </p><p>“And once you are done going over all of that we will have a thinker run a check on you, and if it’s good you can meet the team,” he finished explaining.</p><p> </p><p>I shifted awkwardly in my seat. “About that—I would really rather not be based out of Kansas City. If they find out where I went, the Fallen won’t rest until they get me back or kill me. So I’d rather get myself away from them to somewhere far enough that going after me wouldn’t be worth their time.” I realized that my fingers were tapping on the bench and forced them to still. “I hear New Hampshire is nice this time of year, if you like snow anyways. And more importantly, it has almost no Fallen presence.” </p><p> </p><p>“We do have resources here to protect you, Rain,” Warren offered. “Letting the Fallen get you is the last thing we would do.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t want to cause any issues here, but this isn’t really negotiable,” I clarified. “If I have to I will find another way to get there. I’m here and asking you for help because I’m going to join the Wards when I relocate and I hoped you could help make that happen.”</p><p> </p><p>Making an ultimatum like that made me feel scummy. I wasn’t sure playing hardball would even get me what I wanted out of this, but if I remembered one thing about old Earth Bet it was that the heroes always needed more help, and I could leverage that. Threatening to walk away was as good as demanding they help or I go villain. If I wanted to get away from the Fallen I had to at least try now, even if it didn’t make me any friends around here.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not that I don’t understand why you would want to go, Rain, but let's address the elephant in the room: how are you so confident that the Fallen won’t find you if you run? You should know as well as I do that they have the<em> woman with mind powers</em> who can learn where you are, so why not stay here where we are the most experienced at working around her?” he inquired, putting that extra emphasis when he talked about Mama<br/>Mathers. He was doing his best to mention her without outright naming her and presumably drawing her attention to me.</p><p> </p><p>While Agent Warren wasn’t making a bad case for the city, he was missing one crucial detail that I hadn’t yet shared.</p><p> </p><p>“Just so you know, referring to her, even vaguely, can summon her if someone has had enough contact with her. The PRT is going to want to change how they handle that. In my case, normally you would be right, but I actually don’t have a connection to her. I’m hoping that I can get away without anyone catching on until I’m halfway across the country.” I felt I had to give an explanation before they dug too deep and caught me in a lie so I pushed a bit. “After I got my powers the connection broke; I think they might have had something to do with it. I’m not entirely sure how it worked. It’s a big reason I ran off here as soon as I could.”</p><p> </p><p>Every lie I told had to have some angle that I could perceive as the truth. I hoped that if I kept that up thinkers might not figure out that I’m not being entirely honest when they inevitably screened me. My powers were how I’d traveled back in time, and I definitely didn’t know how it functioned. I hoped it was enough honesty to work.</p><p> </p><p>I realized that what I was doing was pretty much the way wizards from Maggie Holt would try to lie; it must have inspired me a bit without me realizing. I had been introduced to the franchise by Chastity when we found the first book during a salvage job and I mentioned that I knew almost nothing about it; it turned out that she was secretly a huge fan and strong armed me into reading it as she ranted about my lack of culture. </p><p> </p><p>I let out a smile as I reminisced, but I quickly caught myself, forcing my neutral mask back into place. My slip up didn’t seem to matter much since the agent appeared as lost in his own thoughts as I had been. Maybe he was thrown off by my claims. We came to a final halt and a moment later the door of the van was opened by the driver, and she waved for me to step out.</p><p> </p><p>As he exited, Agent Warren brought my bike to the door, and I helped him place it back onto the ground. Once he was out he began to speak, putting a lid on our conversation. </p><p> </p><p>“Well, Precipice, we will have to go over your story and do what we can to confirm it, but if you are correct I will do what I can to help you get relocated. For now, how about you get yourself some rest. We keep a few spare rooms around HQ, so let's see if we can’t get you set up in one for now.”</p><p> </p><p>He set down the halls, leading me through the maze-like building. I would have tried to focus on its layout more, but all I could think about was the promise of my room and a moment to truly rest.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Maybe this could actually work out for me. </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Severed - 1.3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Well I was aiming for before September arrived to get this one out, but I'll take 3 days into it. I wanted to thank everyone for the kudos and comments, I've read every single one. And a thank you to the people who shared my fic around, I noticed and appreciated it. Last but not least thank you to the kind folks on the Cauldron discord, especially Juff and Ridtom for their help during the editing process!</p><p>I also commissioned a cover for the fic, here's a link. https://imgur.com/a/UXtWzyi</p><p>A couple trigger warnings for the chapter it features a panic attack and inadvertent self harm.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>The room the PRT had me waiting in carried a certain kind of blandness with it that I was struggling to pin down. It might have been the beige paint on the wall or how all the furniture lacked any personality, but I wasn't sure. It reminded me of a hospital, like this room was one of dozens just like it with little to make it stand out from the others.</p><p> </p><p>None of this was to say it was bad, but after a day stranded with nothing but my own thoughts and massive amounts of stress I just wished they had put me somewhere a bit more engaging. The room felt like it had been designed with distraction as its enemy.</p><p> </p><p>First I tried going to sleep on the bed but after half an hour of tossing and turning I had to call it a loss. There was a small TV in the room, so I decided to try out cable TV for the first time ever on Bet. I started with the news channels, but all of them were talking about the devastation in Canberra, and that was hard to watch. I began flipping through the channels aimlessly. Eventually I settled on a cooking show and decided to try and give it my full attention.</p><p> </p><p>Cooking was something that I had not been allowed to do the majority of my life. The Fallen had been very particular about gender roles, and cooking was considered too domestic for a man — even helping with the cleaning up after a meal was too much.</p><p> </p><p>This all meant that once I’d left the Fallen I had pretty much no idea how to feed myself anything that didn’t come out of a microwave. When I’d been couch surfing at Tristan and Byron’s apartment that was fine, they’d handled the cooking and I’d learned how to properly wash the dishes, but once I’d gotten the apartment with Chastity and Cassie that had to change. </p><p> </p><p>Of the three of us only Cassie knew how to put together a meal. She attributed it to years of ‘henching’ for Rachel. I’d decided I wasn’t going to be useless and let her cook all our meals, so I’d started trying to learn how to cook. It was just my luck that’d been when supplies were at their worst. I’d wound up learning how to cook some strange depression era style meals nobody would eat if given the choice not to.</p><p> </p><p>It hadn’t been until spring was well underway that Cassie started going hunting with Rachel, so we hadn’t had fresh meat in the house until about a week before the party. Needless to say, I didn’t feel very proud of my skills as they stood. Chastity had always encouraged me and said it was good, but I had a suspicion it had more to do with her disliking the idea of cooking the meals herself more than the taste of my bizarre cuisine.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Maybe I can try learning how to cook a real meal now. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Since I was somewhere that wasn’t fresh off the back of its second apocalypse, that meant I might be able to find fresh ingredients without going broke. The prospect was a little exciting. Living with the Fallen had been awful, but that didn’t change the fact that my aunt was a damn good cook, and I missed regularly eating meals I thought were actually good.</p><p> </p><p>It was around my fifth episode of the show that I began to think the PRT wouldn’t have things sorted until the morning, so I turned off the TV. It was then that I noticed the clock on the wall and had to double take at the time it showed — 22:46.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Holy shit I’m still awake! Is the clock right? Could I actually be in charge of my own sleep again? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>It seemed too good to be true. After over a year of forced sleep, having the liberty to be awake when I needed to be was a dream come true. However, that meant I wouldn’t be getting any answers about Love Lost and Colt. I had no idea if either of them were okay, and with the dream room not dragging me in I wasn’t feeling optimistic about their well-being. That soured my mood as quickly as it had lifted.</p><p> </p><p>With a sigh I heaved myself up and out of the bed and headed to the attached bathroom. I glanced at myself in the mirror and took in how I was looking. I was covered in motor oil and grease from working on the bike and my hair was blown back, almost standing on end. I decided I should bathe and started up the shower. Another perk of being back before gold morning was good plumbing. Having both good water pressure and controlled temperature at the same time was something of a luxury back on Gimel.</p><p> </p><p>As I stood under the water I took a moment to collect my thoughts. The day I’d just had left me with a few questions about how I was going to be living going forward. Chief among my concerns was the fact that I—an eighteen year old man—was stuck back in my thirteen year old body. The authorities were likely to put me under somebody's guardianship and jam me into school. That would completely fuck up my plans, so I had to figure something out.</p><p> </p><p>If I was lucky I could try and get my GED instead of getting put back into school, but that would hinge on me being able to pass it in the first place. It’s not that I was dumb or anything, but I had to admit that my education had kinda sucked. Between being with the Fallen and the apocalypse in the middle of that, I wasn’t sure I would be able to pass without cheating. Not to mention if I even wanted a shot at taking the test I would need to convince whoever was put in charge of me that I could do it.</p><p> </p><p>To try and avoid getting a guardian without outing my situation as a time traveler would be damn near impossible, I would be under the eye of the PRT and I doubted they would let me off the hook so easily. No, I needed to figure out how I would work around it rather than avoiding it. For me to do that I had to know what the details would be and I didn’t. Without an outlet to plan away my worries, I just tried to put it from my mind and decided to revisit it once I knew enough to work on things. With that I lost myself in the sensation of a good shower.</p><p> </p><p>I probably spent far more time than I actually needed, but it was amazing to experience and I struggled to pull myself away from it. Once I got out and redressed, I tried to wash my mask in the sink so I could wear it without the constant scent of motor oil filling my nose. I got it as clean as I could get it and wrung the hell out of it before putting the slightly damp cloth back over my face.</p><p> </p><p>As I re-entered the room I once again noted the time on the wall— 00:32. I figured it was as good a time to sleep as any and settled into the bed. I uttered a small prayer before I closed my eyes. It didn't take very long for me to go under.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>I found myself in an entirely different space from what I expected. I was in my apartment and back to the right height. Looking over my arms, and feeling my face, I could tell my scars were back too.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> This is weird. Am I back? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Chastity! Cassie! Anyone home?” I called out. There was no response.</p><p> </p><p>I looked around, taking in the details: our eternally messy dining table, a mantle filled with small knick knacks we’d gathered during salvage work, and the wood framed couch I had built for the cushions I’d salvaged from a ruined furniture store. While some parts of my home were as they should be there were a fair number of things that weren't — most notably, it was completely silent. There were pictures on the walls that shifted from one image to another if I looked away. They all showed moments I would have rather forgotten. </p><p> </p><p>The look of realization on Snags face when the wound on his neck opened. The mangled pieces of my friends and allies made into a horrifying shield around Cradle. Erin when she tried to convince me to stay with the Fallen. A gallery of my failures.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Yeah, definitely not back home. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>I went through the apartment room by room and was met by the same experience— always almost right but with some tell giving away its nature. Once I returned to the living room I tried the front door to see if it would open, but it wouldn’t budge. I pulled the blinds back from the windows in the room and it looked like it should have: a view of the road and parking lot from the ground floor. There was a door that led out to the small stone patio we had in place of a balcony so I went to try and open it. Unlike the front door it opened but when I looked through it wasn’t the outside. </p><p> </p><p>It opened into a long hallway that sprawled until it took a turn on either side. I tried going down the hall to see where it led, but once it turned I found myself at the other end of the hallway staring down towards my door. The perspective was disorienting. I decided to head back into the apartment and take this new environment one step at a time.</p><p> </p><p>When I returned to the room I heard a hinge squeak and a metallic clack. Something used the mail slot! I ran to it hoping to catch whatever touched it. However, all I found was an envelope. It was plain and unaddressed, but it wasn’t like it could have been for anyone else so I opened it. Inside I found tokens.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Coins, teeth, glass, and the metal — it’s all here! Does that mean Love Lost and Colt are out? Oh god, they can’t be dead right? Wait, what is that? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Before my worries about the rest of my cluster could take hold I noticed something unusual. Among all the tokens was a smashed pocket watch. I turned it over in my hands, examining it. We had never had a new token appear before, not even when Colt joined the cluster. As I puzzled over it the dream rapidly faded around me.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>I woke up to the sound of knocking at the door. I took a moment to get my bearings, rubbing the sleep from my eyes until my vision became clear, then fixing my mask’s position on my face. The knocking returned and I began shuffling my way to the door. I called out so they would know I was up.</p><p> </p><p>“Just one second.”  </p><p> </p><p>I opened the door to the sight of Agent Warren with a brown paper bag in his hands.</p><p> </p><p>“Good morning, Precipice. Sorry to wake you, but your story checked out and I would hate for you to miss our flight.” The Agent looked very pleased with his surprise, practically oozing ‘<em> bet you didn’t expect that </em>’. To his credit I definitely hadn’t. Once his words had fully registered I was struck with a question.</p><p> </p><p>“Our flight? Where exactly are we supposed to be going?” I asked. It made me a little nervous. They were already making decisions for me without my involvement, but I would work with what they gave me. Getting out of the Fallen’s reach had to take priority.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, we took your suggestion into account. You and I have a flight to Manchester, New Hampshire taking off in a little under two hours. I’d suggest you make sure you have everything before we get on our way. The traffic can be a little crazy at this hour and my partner refuses to misuse our siren.” He held out the paper bag to me. “I took the liberty of grabbing you some breakfast before we headed out.” </p><p><br/>He deposited the bag into my hands as questions flooded my mind.</p><p> </p><p>“What about my bike, it’s coming with me right?” I didn’t give him enough time to reply before asking another question. “And why Manchester? I’ve never heard of it before, is there even a Wards team there?” I could almost feel my plan to reach the Undersiders coming apart at the seams, but before I could panic too much my answers arrived.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course it will. It will be a few days after you arrive though. The modifications you put on it mean we need to use more secure channels to get it there. And as for Manchester, you’re right that there is no team. It’s just where we are headed to keep a low profile. I’d imagine you would prefer to keep your final destination just a bit harder to pin down.” I nodded at that. “The city has the closest major airport that isn’t in Brockton Bay, where you’ll be joining the Wards. It also happens to be fairly close to Boston so even if someone knew where you flew to there would be some guessing involved to find you.” </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Good Lord, they are actually sending me where I want to go. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“In that case, everything I’ve got is on me, so let’s get going.” I jammed my feet into my boots and began to walk down the hallway with Agent Warren. I practically had to take two steps for every one he did.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>  I fucking hate having short legs again.  </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Once we reached the airport Agent Warren told me I had to take off my mask if we didn’t want a fight with security. I didn’t like it, but I would be gone in an hour anyways so I obliged. If the Fallen could find me before take off I supposed they earned it. Once we got through the security screening it didn't take long for us to get situated onto the plane. It seemed luck was on my side today and we took off without any incident.</p><p> </p><p>The flight took around 5 hours when all was said and done. I spent that time sitting in the window seat, alternating between staring at the ground as we passed and watching whatever was on the screen. Agent Warren tried to start a conversation a couple of times, and normally I would have stumbled through doing my best to be social, but there was an almost physical disconnect in our interactions. Between being talked to like I was a kid and his questions being the standard sort you would ask someone who didn’t grow up in a cult, well, things were a bit awkward.</p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t really his fault. Each question just happened to trip over some other detail of my youth I wasn’t really open to talking about. I had a lot on my mind anyways. I doubted I would have made great conversation even if things hadn’t been so stilted. Eventually I started watching a movie so we had an excuse to stop talking. </p><p> </p><p> As we flew into the city I took in all the details I could. The sun had set during the flight and the city was illuminated in orange tinted light with a handful of buildings standing above the rest making a small skyline. The outskirts of the city were covered in forest, with the city proper nestled in a valley with a river snaking its way through the center. I found it a little picturesque.  </p><p> </p><p>As we disembarked, Agent Warren led me from our terminal, following signs towards the exit. I figured it would be a good time to figure out what my next move was going to be.</p><p> </p><p>“So, Agent Warren sir, what exactly are we doing from here? Are we headed straight to Brockton Bay?” I inquired. </p><p> </p><p>“As a matter of fact we aren’t.” His response threw me off. “We are meeting up with a local agent here in Manchester. Since things were so short notice they haven’t prepared for you in Brockton Bay, so you will be here for a couple days while they sort something out.”</p><p> </p><p>I nodded, but my confusion must have been rather obvious. Agent Warren looked to me expectantly.</p><p> </p><p>“You seem to have a question?” he asked, waiting for my reply.</p><p> </p><p>“I just don’t understand, if they aren’t ready why did we come out here so soon?” </p><p> </p><p>“You didn’t seem very keen on staying in Kansas City. We figured you might be more comfortable if we put some distance between you and the Fallen. If we are going to make you wait, you may as well do it where you feel safer.” </p><p> </p><p>That was pretty surprising to me. I didn’t take the PRT for an organization that would be overly concerned with anyone’s feelings, let alone mine. Now that I thought about it, it made sense on a level that they would need to be accommodating to the capes working with them. I just didn’t think it would go that far.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh,” was all that I could say after hearing that, and we continued on in a momentary silence. </p><p> </p><p>“A-ha, There’s our man,” he said and pointed over at a man holding a sign, before offering a wave. I saw that it read ‘<em> Frazier </em>’, and that it was held in a set of surprisingly familiar hands. He looked a few years younger but I recognized him all the same. A man with a shaved head, heavy five o’ clock shadow, and a tough build.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Is that Gilpatrick? There’s no way. What are the fucking odds. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>We headed over to him and any lingering doubts I had were dashed away as he put his hand forward and greeted us. “Agent Sean Gilpatrick, I’ve been expecting you.”</p><p> </p><p>One surreal handshake later we were in the car, headed down the road. I took in the sights as we drove around the large area the airport took up, until we began to reach what looked like a commercial district, with shops all along the road. The two agents were in the front of the car, talking quietly enough that I couldn’t quite hear them over the sound of the rock and roll that was playing on the radio.</p><p> </p><p>Listening to the music reminded me of all the times my friends had complained about the music they couldn’t find anymore after Gold Morning. Apparently a lot of media had been lost in the event. Ashley had once claimed it was like the Library of Alexandria had been burned down ten times over. Personally, I hadn’t had much access to music and TV before Gold Morning so I wasn’t sure how true that statement had been, but given the consensus around the room when she said it I figured it was probably close to it.</p><p> </p><p>I was engrossed in the music until the song ended. The station made sure to let me know I was listening to New Hampshire’s ‘number one’ rock station before it went to ads. Gilpatrick used the moment as an opportunity to turn the radio down and start conversation.</p><p> </p><p>“So how was the flight? Not too long I hope,” Gilpatrick asked. He sounded run down, which I found unusual. Even when we worked together during the fight with the Titans he had sounded more put together.</p><p> </p><p>“I’d never been on a plane before today so I’m not sure what the normal time would be. It wasn’t bad though,” I answered. I noticed that Agent Warren wasn’t saying much and was instead staring at his phone. Based on our brief acquaintanceship that stuck out as odd to me since he wasn’t the quiet type. I figured he might have been trying to let me get a read on Gilpatrick myself.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s fair enough. I’m glad to hear it was alright for you, some people don't take well to planes.” He paused a moment and then continued. “So have either of you had any dinner yet? If not I know a good spot.”</p><p> </p><p>My brain decided to get stuck on the fact that we were skipping lunch until I remembered we had gone an hour forward on our flight and it was definitely time for dinner at that point. I shook my head, but I realized he probably couldn’t see me.</p><p> </p><p>“No sir, just breakfast so far.”</p><p> </p><p>“Perfect. You’ll love this place, it’s a favorite around town,” Gilpatrick said. “It's maybe ten minutes away from here. So just sit tight and we’ll be there in no time.”</p><p> </p><p>True to his word after ten more minutes of driving Gilpatrick pulled onto the side of the road by a small brick building with a large neon sign attached that read ‘The Red Arrow’. He opened up his car door and gave us a warning.</p><p> </p><p>“And here we are. Mind the ice when you’re getting out, don’t want you to crack your heads open.”</p><p> </p><p>I got out of the car and took in my surroundings. The main thing that stuck out to me was the volume of snow and brick, which this part of the city seemed to have in excess. We crossed the street and once we hit the sidewalk I noticed a newspaper rack, I barely caught the headline as we walked past: <em> ‘Cage Killer’s death toll rises to 12 fatalities’. </em> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Well that’s a little worrying. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>We entered the diner and my first impression was that it was a little cramped. It looked like it was designed to uncomfortably seat forty people at max, and it was pretty close to that limit. A waitress led us over to a booth nestled into a corner and seated us. Before she started to ask our drink orders, it seemed some mild hazing was in order.</p><p> </p><p>“Have you all been here before?” Her question seemed harmless enough so I answered.</p><p> </p><p>“Nope, first time here.” This was apparently the wrong answer because both her and Gilpatrick began to grin.</p><p> </p><p>“Just one moment then,” she said and walked over to the counter. Then she started whaling on a bell they had attached to the wall and began shouting, “Attention Red Arrow Diners! We have a Red Arrow virgin in the building, give em a proper welcome!” That was all they needed to hear apparently because shouts, whistles, and clapping filled the tiny diner. I slid down in my seat and gave Gilpatrick a glare.</p><p> </p><p>“You could have warned me you know,” I grumbled. Gilpatrick had just about stopped laughing, but my complaint got him going again. Once he actually stopped he sat there with a grin on his face, the prior weariness gradually slipping back in again.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry about that, just needed a pick me up today.”</p><p> </p><p>Once ordering drinks was out of the way I figured it was as good a time as any to start asking questions.</p><p> </p><p>“So I know that I’m going to be here for a while, but where exactly am I staying?”</p><p> </p><p>Agent Warren answered, “There’s a hotel here in downtown that you will be staying at. I’m going to be flying back to Kansas City once you are settled in and Agent Gilpatrick will be staying a room over from you in case you need anything.” He then turned towards Gilpatrick. “You guys are the ones taking him to get clothes and supplies right, because that can’t wait much longer. Everything he owns is on him right now.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, we’re going to take care of that tomorrow morning,” Gilpatrick confirmed. “I figured we would go to the mall then head to the records office up in Concord and sort out his lack of papers.”</p><p> </p><p>I cringed slightly when he mentioned the mall, but neither of them seemed to notice. I supposed I could try and go somewhere else when the time came. I cut in with another question.</p><p> </p><p>“So I’ve been wondering, is there anywhere I could go to train? Back home I had to be really careful not to get caught so it would be nice to cut loose and get a better feel for what I can really do.”</p><p> </p><p>Despite me already having a decent grasp on my powers, I wasn’t lying to them. In the time since I had been thrown into the past I hadn’t been able to take a proper look at the changes in my powers. Sure, my tinkering was outright better and I’d briefly used my mover power like Love Lost was able to, but I had no idea how far the changes went.</p><p> </p><p>After last night I knew that I was the only one getting tokens now, and if Cradle’s power up when he got most of them was anything to go off of the differences could be staggering. And all of that was without thinking about the new token that I got. The sooner I knew what I was dealing with the better.</p><p> </p><p>Gilpatrick seemed to be mulling over my question, and eventually he answered me with a question of his own.</p><p> </p><p>“What exactly do you need to work on? Where I can take you depends on what you are going to be doing.” </p><p> </p><p>“I might cut some things in half, but if that makes it harder to find a spot I can wait until there’s a better place to try it. Mostly I will need a place I can move around in, with maybe a few obstacles mixed in. So long as there are walls and a high ceiling I can work something out, I can do the other stuff later.”</p><p> </p><p>Agent Warren was giving me a slightly wide eyed look, and he quieted his voice as he spoke to me.</p><p> </p><p>“Rain, I thought you were a tinker. You built those controls on your bike, are you telling me there's more you haven’t mentioned?”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Oh. I may have fucked up. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, there’s a bit more going on. Is it okay for me to talk about it here?” The two nodded to me so I continued. “I’ve got some motion powers going on, blades that weaken what they hit, uh, I can make people feel guilty or agitated and get feedback from them. Oh, and I can make robot arms. Which I guess you knew.”</p><p> </p><p>The longer I spoke the more Agent Warren looked upset, by the end I could see his eyelid twitching.</p><p> </p><p>“And you didn’t think to mention this to anyone?” he asked. It didn’t take a genius to know ‘anyone’ meant him. It made me feel a little defensive.</p><p>  </p><p>“Okay, to be fair, I was in the middle of the worst birthday ever and not thinking very clearly. Nobody actually asked me so I thought you guys must have figured it out from the screening.”</p><p> </p><p>Agent Warren’s face twisted further, his expression looked almost pained. He let out a sigh before he responded. </p><p> </p><p>“Fair enough, that's on us I suppose.” He stopped for a moment before latching on to another detail I had failed to share earlier. “Wait, it was your <em> birthday </em>? What the hell, Rain, you didn’t mention it once. I get the timing was weird, but we could have grabbed you some cake or something.” He sounded almost more upset at the prospect of a birthday with no cake than missing intel on my powers.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I could have gotten cake? Fuck. Wait, that’s not the point here, I don’t need any pity. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Again nobody asked, and it’s not important. I was in the middle of running away from the Fallen, my birthday isn’t really a priority in that situation.” I focused on the part that bothered me in his reactions, the surprise. “How much do you guys not know? I’m not trying to look a gift horse in the mouth here, but what even is your background check? Did you just ask if I’m evil and move on?”</p><p> </p><p>Gilpatrick was giving the two of us a confounded look across the table. Before we could really get into it I was startled by the sound of a cup being placed onto the table in front of me. The waitress was back. She then proceeded to take our orders while we did our best impressions of normal people who weren’t arguing over the PRT’s recruitment procedure.  Once she left with our orders in hand Agent Warren answered my question.</p><p> </p><p>“Rain, if we are being totally honest here, yes, that's pretty much what we did.” It seemed it was my turn to look confused. “I’m not sure if you noticed but last night the only thing I told you about was our recruitment protocol. That was an intentional information blackout until we knew you were right about the connection being gone. The point of the check is to ensure you aren’t a mole or a danger to those around you, and if you pass we move forward and have the department you will be stationed at handle the details.” Agent Warren shrugged. “It’s not flawless, but typically there isn’t much of a wait attached so we aren’t without any vital information for longer than a few hours. And in cases like this it keeps your information safe by only having one department get the details before they go into a secure system only the director of your department and the chief director can access. It keeps your identity known to as few people as possible,” he explained.</p><p> </p><p>I nodded along through the explanation. It made sense even if it seemed a little vulnerable to failure. They probably just trusted the thinkers to not mess up and hoped they would catch it if there were a mistake. It had worked out in my favor anyways so complaining about it probably wouldn’t help me. If the thinkers had missed the time traveler angle I would be better off avoiding a second more thorough screening.</p><p> </p><p>With that settled I wasn’t going to drop heading somewhere to feel out any changes to my powers.</p><p> </p><p>“So Gilpatrick, where were you thinking?” I prodded.</p><p> </p><p>“Well if you hold off on the cutting things in half part I might be able to get you into the NYNEX Arena downtown if I pull a few strings. The city owns it and it's pretty much the largest indoor space I could try and get you in on short notice. Would that give you enough room?”</p><p> </p><p>I thought about it for a moment, and a small smile stretched across my face as I gave in to a feeling of excitement.</p><p> </p><p>“I think so. It might wind up being overkill though. So far all I’ve managed is wall running and stopping in midair, but it would be nice to try and work on that.” </p><p> </p><p>While running up walls was new I at least understood it. The part of my powers I was left feeling unsure about was the ability to throw me back in time. My agent's lack of subtlety in giving me a broken watch as a token made me feel like there was more I could do with it than get jammed into my old life. I’d have to wait until I was alone and try and pull on it to see what I could do.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The rest of the meal was largely uneventful. I only spoke when I was asked a question and spent most of the meal stuck in my own head. I was feeling overwhelmed by, well everything, and despite sleeping late fatigue was starting to set in for me.</p><p> </p><p>We paid the tab and went back out onto the freezing street. Once we settled into the car a very short drive saw us to the hotel. We walked into the lobby and Gilpatrick went up to the desk to get our room keys, leaving Agent Warren and I alone for a moment. He gave me a curious look before he asked me a question.</p><p> </p><p>“So, are you feeling good about all... this?” he asked, gesturing vaguely.</p><p> </p><p>It was hard to say if I was. Things were strange and kind of up in the air, but I was undoubtedly on a better track than I had been last time around. Though I supposed it was hard to do worse than being Fallen so maybe that didn’t count for much. In the end my trepidation didn’t matter; I had to act decisively if I wanted to secure any agency for myself. I nodded to him.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, I am,” I said as firmly as I could.</p><p> </p><p> I got a grin at that.</p><p> </p><p>“So what’s happening next here?” I asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, once you’re set to head to sleep I’m going to be getting out of here so I can catch my flight back to the city.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re leaving so soon?” I was a little surprised, I hadn’t realized him leaving once I was ‘settled in’ meant the minute I had a bed to crash on.</p><p> </p><p>“Yup, unfortunately I have to. The director wasn’t keen on me staying out of the city any longer than he had to let me. While I wish I had more time to see this through, the McVeays are apparently raising hell over in Wichita, and it’s developing into an all hands on deck situation. I’ve got the flight to rest and then I’ve got to help coordinate our response.” He sounded tired at just the thought of it.</p><p> </p><p>The timeframe for the incident seemed a little too coincidental to me and I didn’t remember that happening last time. I voiced the question that I already had the answer to.</p><p> </p><p>“So is that actually why we left right away?” Agent Warren’s expression changed immediately as the implications of what he told me hit him, but I focused myself and pressed forward. “If it started after I left it was probably because they needed a distraction big enough to get me back without a lot of resistance. They’re gonna hit your HQ looking for me.” A pit rapidly formed in my stomach.</p><p> </p><p>“Rain. Even if the timeframe matches up this isn’t your fault.” I strongly disagreed with that assessment, but now wasn’t the time for me to wallow in shame. I had an idea.</p><p> </p><p>“I can make this right. Can you pull up a map for me? I have something to show you.” Instead of handing his phone to me Agent Warren just placed a hand on my shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>“Rain, you don’t have anything to make right. You already made the right call when you got yourself out of there. Anything these people do is on them, not you. Do you understand me?” His tone was unwavering and I might have believed him if it weren't for the fact that this was a new development. </p><p> </p><p>“You’re right,” I lied. “Can I show you anyways? It’s important.”  He obliged and handed me the phone. I pulled up an online map and found the spot I was looking for and handed it back.</p><p> </p><p>“That is the Mathers’ house. If they are making a move right now it's probably the most vulnerable she will be for a while. I’d bet she isn’t sure if you know where they are yet, but the longer I’m gone the more likely they are to relocate. This may be your best shot to take her down in years. And if word gets to Wichita that she is captured they might pull back to protect themselves.”</p><p> </p><p>Once the phone was back in his hands, Agent Warren took in the details surrounding the location before looking back to me.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you, Rain. I can’t make any promises about us acting on this information right away, but I will make sure this gets to the director as soon as I am back.”</p><p> </p><p>I nodded my head and before anything more could be said on the subject Gilpatrick came back with plastic key cards in hand. I sighed, wishing I had more time.</p><p> </p><p>“Called the taxi for you. They said they would be here in a few minutes,”  Gilpatrick told Agent Warren.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I suppose this is it then,” I said as I offered a handshake. And with a small grin Agent Warren took the handshake.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not dying or anything, Rain. I’ll be around and you can always reach out to me.” As he released the handshake I felt the business card he had left in my hand. “I make a point of being available to anyone I help recruit.” He turned and walked over to shake hands with Gilpatrick and said something to him that I didn’t quite catch.</p><p> </p><p>As he headed toward the door Agent Warren gave one last parting comment.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m looking forward to seeing what you’ll do, Rain, I think this is the start of something very promising. Who knows? Maybe I’ll talk you into coming back to my department once you’re ready.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>I flopped down onto the bed in my hotel room and stared up at the ceiling. It was still too early to go to sleep but I was too worn out to navigate the weirdness that was interacting with Gilpatrick when he didn’t know me. I supposed I’d be spending a lot of time feeling like that in the future, but tonight wasn’t going to be the time for me to rip off that bandaid. Seeing a relative stranger in place of the man I knew was too much to deal with.</p><p> </p><p>After everything with the Titans, Gilpatrick had left the patrol and signed on with the Wardens in a consulting role, keeping an eye on capes he felt could use some support. After I got put on my two year probation he had decided I would be one of those people. Over the past few months I had gotten to know him better over occasional lunches and getting dragged to help with some charity event or volunteer at a soup kitchen.</p><p> </p><p>He never told me why I was one of his pet projects, but at the end of the day I didn’t care that much. With Tristan dead — or at least I’d thought he was — Byron grieving and the team broken up, it was nice having another person in my corner watching out for me. Even if that meant I was used for free labor on occasion. I had sometimes wondered if his interest was tied to his power. He’d said that he could see the lies a person told themself, but he hadn’t made a habit of poking at what I believed, so I wasn’t sure that had much to do with it.</p><p> </p><p>All of this added up to me knowing far more about him as a person than he now knew about me. This meant I had to be extra careful and make sure I didn’t tip my hand. While Gilpatrick was a kind man, if I gave even a hint that I knew things I shouldn’t he would hit me with Master-Stranger protocols faster than I could blink. It made having a conversation with him a risk I didn’t want to take, so I had largely avoided doing just that. Which left me feeling pretty scummy considering how down in the dumps he had seemed.</p><p> </p><p>I wanted to focus on something that didn’t make me feel like garbage, so I decided now was as good a time as any to try and figure out the clock token. I sat up and kicked off my boots as I settled into a seated position with my legs folded underneath me. A part of my experimenting with the dream space had consisted of meditation, focused on trying to change how the space was made up. I figured there was no point letting all my practice be for nothing so I closed my eyes and created a blade, letting it rest across my palms.</p><p> </p><p>I leveled out my breathing and focused on how it felt when I got pulled through the crack my agent had torn with the strange blade. The sense of confusion and wonder that had overpowered me when I looked at the etching. I could almost feel something, but I wasn’t quite there. I took in all those feelings, and in the back of my mind I was filled with an instinct, almost like someone was talking to me.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The blade shears through anything. Cut past now. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Something clicked and I could feel the connection. I grabbed the blade in my hands and willed it to cut beyond the material world. I opened my eyes, and when I saw the light from the blade, it was almost indescribable. I found myself staring into it, enthralled by what I saw. I only came to my senses when I felt a hand on my shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>“Rain! Are you alright?”</p><p> </p><p>I flinched away and my hand lashed out with the blade. When I looked up I saw Gilpatrick, and the glowing crack in reality stretched across his chest.</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck! Don’t—” The words couldn’t leave my mouth fast enough. Gilpatrick stumbled back and I heard that telltale sound. I lurched forward to help him but my strength left me. Gilpatrick and I both crumbled to the floor. I felt the side of my face land against something soft on the floor. Before my vision failed I could see a birthday candle barely in my peripheral vision, then darkness took me. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Once again I woke up in my apartment. Despite it being a dream I could feel my breathing was ragged and my heart rapidly pounding against my chest. I tried to take a step forward but I collapsed into the side of the dining table, tipping it over with me as I fell. The mess covering the top crashed over me as I sprawled across the floor. I started to force myself back up, but my arms wouldn’t stop shaking. I tried to steady my breathing, but I couldn’t stop seeing Gilpatrick after I cut him.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He’d looked just like Snag. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“F-f-fuck!” I shouted at myself through the shudders. “God damn it, Rain! Could you stop killing innocent people! You get a second chance served to you on a silver fucking platter like Jesus Fucking Christ commanded it. So what do you do? Immediately kill an innocent man! A good fucking man! Your friend!” I felt my throat constrict and I couldn’t get out another word.</p><p> </p><p>I made it back to my feet and leaned hard against the wall, blinking through misty vision. I saw the picture frame hanging next to me. I had barely registered what I saw before my arm flew out and smashed it. The look on Gilpatrick's face, the surprise tinged with fear held back as best as he could. I looked around the room; it was in every picture. A scream tore out of my throat as I rampaged through the room.</p><p> </p><p>“FFFUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCKKKK! I KNOW ITS MY FAULT! JUST STOP SHOWING IT!”</p><p> </p><p>I smashed them one after another, leaving a trail of broken glass and blood through the room. As I went to swing once more I felt something pinning my arms to my side.</p><p> </p><p>“Frazier, calm down!” a shout came from behind me, from a man who shouldn’t be here.</p><p> </p><p>I froze. I turned my head toward the patio door and saw it was wide open. I felt myself get twisted around and I came face to face with Gilpatrick. My Gilpatrick, five years older than he had been just a moment before. </p><p> </p><p>“Are you okay? Get a grip, Rain. Breathe,” he spoke to me softly now. It was in one ear and out the other. In that moment there was only one thing on my mind. I shook with tears streaming down my face, but I was filled with pure relief.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He’s okay. Gilpatrick’s gonna be okay. </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Severed - 1.4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Now this is more like it. This update only took weeks and not months! As per usual I'd like to thank the fine folks of the Cauldron discord chat for their help during the editing process, especially Ridtom and Juff for ensuring this is readable!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on, Rain, focus on now. Breathe with me. In and out.” As Gilpatrick spoke he released his grip on my left arm and began clearing the broken glass from the couch. I tried to breathe along with him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“There we go, I knew you were still in there,” he said, smiling at me. Gilpatrick led me to the seat he had cleared and eased me into it. Once my lungs were working with me again he tried to get my attention.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Rain, can you tell me where we are?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“My apartment. A dream?” I checked even though I doubted he had the answer.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well your guess is as good as mine.” His relief at getting an answer from me was apparent. “So, tell me five things you can see.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I remember this, Jessica did this.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You, the door, the lamp, my table… a lot of glass,” I said as I scanned over the room.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Good, four things you feel?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Your hand, the couch, my </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking </span>
  </em>
  <span>hands, ow!” I hissed, taking another breath. “Gil, I’m good, I just thought I—”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not hearing a fourth feeling, Precipice,” he cut me off, steel in his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I sighed. “Fine, my shirt.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gilpatrick ran through more questions, asking me for things I could hear or smell. Finally, he asked what I could taste.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Blood,” I answered. “I think I bit my fucking tongue.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mind staying put while I go get you some water to rinse that out?” Gilpatrick asked, loosening his grip on my right arm.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’m fine.” I glanced up at him sharply, caught in his pace. “What about you? I thought I killed you!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He patted my shoulder as he rose up from his crouched position. “One of us at a time, Rain.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He went to go rummage around my cabinets for a cup, knocking aside some glass and debris. After a moment I heard the sink flowing and Gilpatrick returned to the couch, cup in hand. He handed me the cup and started clearing the rest of the glass off of the cushions so he had a space to sit.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I swished the drink around my mouth and spat the now ruddy water onto the carpet. Gilpatrick gave me a side eyed glance.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What? It's a dream and it's my trashed apartment, I can treat it how I want. If I’m actually back I’ll be sure to clean it.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That managed to get a chuckle out of Gilpatrick.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And to think that you had me worried.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Are we going to actually talk about what’s going on? Because I have no fucking clue here.” I couldn’t hide the panic in my tone.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m in the same boat, kid. You’re the expert here.” He turned to look me in the eyes. “So why do I remember dragging mini-you across Manchester like it just happened?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I decided to start from the beginning.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, for starters I don’t think I should go drinking again any time soon.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, so I get all that, but could you repeat what you just said to me?” Gilpatrick had taken everything in stride, relatively speaking, until I asked him one small favor.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I said, can you be my adult when we wake up?” I asked once again. “I won’t start calling you Dad or anything awkward like that. I only need you to rubber stamp my decisions so I don't wind up in foster care.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gilpatrick stopped bandaging my hand for a moment. “You’re serious.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As cancer. I have a lot of shit to fix and I can’t do that if I’m dodging curfews and going to school. The Slaughterhouse 9 are going to come and get Ashley killed in a few months. I don’t even know the timeframe for the awful shit that happened to Victoria, but I have to stop it if I’m not too late already. And that’s only the tip of the iceberg. Even if it's still two years out we have to go through Gold Morning again.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Talking about Gold Morning really put the stakes that were at play into focus for me, and it seemed Gilpatrick was of a similar mind.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit, I hadn’t thought about that yet. Do you have some sort of plan?” His question hit my biggest problem right on the head.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, not for that,” I admitted. Gilpatrick went back to performing first aid, seemingly deep in thought. We sat quiet for a moment until he finished the job.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You didn’t have to do that you know, I’ll be fine once we wake up,” I said, a little late for it to stop him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, you were bleeding all over the couch. We’re still in here and I’m not letting you sit in a pool of your blood.” Gilpatrick changed the subject. “So I assume you have some plan for the short term? Or was it fate that brought you to my hometown.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, like I mentioned, I was trying to get to Brockton Bay to find Tattletale and make sense of all this.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s more of a step than an actual plan, Rain. I mean what are we going to do after that? What should we change first? Who are you going to bring back here?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That threw me for a loop. The part of coming back that had weighed most heavily on me, the part I pushed furthest back in my mind—once I helped them, my friends would change. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There were years of their lives that wouldn’t even be close if I succeeded in protecting them. Would they be the same? Would they still be my friends? After bringing back Gilpatrick I had another option.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t have to lose them, I just need to find them. I could bring them back.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There was nothing I wanted more, but I wasn’t feeling entirely right about it. I asked Gilpatrick the question I was asking myself.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Would that be fair to them? Bringing people back I mean. I wasn’t trying to bring you back, but it happened so we have to work with it. Doing that intentionally, is it even okay?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think you’re looking at this the right way.” His response came far faster than I had expected. “This is a second chance. There’s no point in sugarcoating it — we lost on Gold Morning. We escaped with our lives but worlds got broken and billions died—all that we survivors could do was try and start again, but things were never the same. This is bigger than us, I’m not sure we get to decide what’s fair here. I don’t think it's okay to use anything less than everything we have at our disposal.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That struck a chord I didn’t like. I thought of Sveta.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Like Cauldron did? Gilpatrick, we are not paving that road into hell. We have to do this right.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Silence stretched through the room.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You know I didn’t mean it like that. I just don’t think we should make getting more help from people in our time a taboo. There’s too much at stake and I don’t think we can do this by ourselves. And there are people out there, people we both care about, who need to know what happens.” Before another pause in the conversation could fully form Gilpatrick cleared his throat and spoke again, “We don’t need to decide what to do about that today. The next two weeks. What are we going to do in the next two weeks?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I considered that for a moment.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Before I decide, I need to know since you never answered me, will you be my adult?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gilpatrick cracked a grin at me.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought all the ‘we’ in this conversation made it obvious. Yes, Rain, I will be your adult. Somebody needs to keep you out of trouble.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I couldn’t help but smile back at him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Then it sounds like you and I need to go house hunting. After that you and I are joining the heroes.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The mail slot creaked and slapped against its metal frame. I looked over at it and once again there was an envelope on the floor.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve got mail?” Gilpatrick sounded more like he was asking a question than telling me about its arrival.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I got up off the couch and walked over to pick it up. I tore it open and took account of its contents.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>No watch today? I’ll have to keep track of that.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re probably going to wake up in a minute, it happened like that last night,” I informed Gilpatrick. The room was already starting to fade.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Then let’s get to work,” I heard as the last of the room dropped away around me.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As I woke the first thing I was aware of was how sore I felt. It seemed collapsing into a heap on the floor for hours at a time was not a good method for waking up feeling refreshed. I pushed myself up off the floor on my numb limbs as they gave way to the feeling of pins and needles. Once I was mostly upright something fell off of my face. I looked at it for a moment before I let out a groan.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, you’re shitting me, you brought me cake and I shanked you.” I looked over at Gilpatrick and checked for any sign of the cut, but nothing was out of place. He pushed himself up into a sitting position against the bed. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That you did. I won't hold it against you. I've heard that kids can start being little shits when they hit their teens.” He started forcing himself up to his feet with a groan. “Let’s take fifteen to wash up then head out. We have a whole laundry list of things to take care of and the Ket’s down the road is practically calling my name.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I let out a groan of my own at the prospect of having to do, well anything, but I gave a thumbs up, so Gilpatrick headed to his room. I dragged myself to the bathroom and made quick use of the hotel's amenities. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Once I was clean and presentable I went into the hall to wait for Gilpatrick. He didn’t keep me waiting long and soon enough we were on the road. After a quick stop at what must have been at least the fifth Open Kettle I had seen since getting into Manchester, we were off. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Armed with breakfast and a PRT credit card we set out on our mission.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As we drove back toward the commercial district from the night prior my resolve broke down and I made my cowardly request.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So could we maybe </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>go to a mall? I don’t handle them well.” I did my best to keep the shame out of my voice, but I didn’t think it was working.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The last time I’d gone to a mall was with the team just after I got out of prison. The only reason I had agreed to go was that Erin wanted to come with us and I didn’t want to disappoint her by refusing the invite. Not that it had done any good; I still managed to ruin the trip an hour into it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I had spent the whole trip building up to a breakdown. I’d been somewhere between wanting to puke my guts out and wanting to sprint out of there at full speed for the duration of the trip, with the feelings getting worse the longer we were there. It culminated in me having a very embarrassing panic attack, just from walking into a section that looked a little too similar to my dreams.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Erin and Byron had helped calm me down, and I’d kept a relative cool until we left, but when all was said and done I’d sworn off malls and hadn’t stepped in one since.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, no problem. I just need an idea of where I should take you. What sort of clothes are you looking to get?” Gilpatrick quickly redirected the conversation.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Bless this man.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“More of what I’m wearing I guess, flannel shirts, jeans, t-shirts. Oh, and some sort of workout clothes. I was a little scrawny at this age.” I flexed an unimpressive bicep and I couldn’t help but picture the disappointed look Rachel would be giving me if she were here. “This won't cut it when I’m fighting villains.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gilpatrick snorted as he flicked on the turn signal and started heading off the main road, “Would you be good with hitting the thrift store to start?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah that’s fine, everything that’s there is probably better than anything I’ve ever owned. I swear I must have been born in hand-me-downs.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gilpatrick drove us a little further down the road before turning the car into a parking lot. I looked at the building and there was a yellow sign with bold black text that read ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Thread End’</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well let’s see what we can find in there.” Gilpatrick killed the engine and we stepped out of the car.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Being the most fashion inept person that had been on the team made me feel their absence all the more keenly during the shopping. Even when I went alone I could always shoot one of them a text to get a second, better opinion. All I had now was a forty-something year old man who dressed in military contractor casual, and me. Needless to say I doubted that I would leave looking particularly sharp.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I decided my safest option was to buy as many shirts without designs as I could. I tacked on a few flannels I thought looked alright, and I managed to find a red and white shirt similar to the one I had back home, so I grabbed that too. After that I found a week’s worth of jeans and a rugged green coat that I would have pegged for military surplus if it weren’t for the size. It reminded me a bit of the one Cassie had. Once I found a pair of black Dassler track pants I was just about finished, but Gilpatrick had found something.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Rain, you need to get this.” His tone was dead serious as he held up a fluorescent orange hawaiian shirt that was covered with neon blue sea turtles, each one wearing sunglasses.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m no fashion expert, but that might be the worst shirt I’ve ever seen.” Gilpatrick nodded his head at my statement.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Exactly.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So why are we buying it then?” I asked. A smile broke out on his face.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Can you imagine the expression Victoria’s going to make when she sees you wearing this abomination?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I felt a grin of my own stretching across my face. I could imagine it. Vic was going to </span>
  <em>
    <span>hate</span>
  </em>
  <span> it, right along with damn near everyone I knew. Wordlessly, I took the shirt from him and put it into the cart.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s the little things in life that help keep me going.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With the final, and now most important, article of clothing picked out we headed to the register. With a swipe of the PRT’s money we were back on the move.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>We went to a big-box store to take care of picking up other things I’d need like socks, a good toothbrush, a comb, the standards. And while I was poking through the shoe section I asked a question.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So Gil, is there a budget for this? Itemized receipts and stuff? A cap on our spending?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Rather than answer my question Gilpatrick folded his arms across his chest and uttered one word, “Why?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I don’t know the scope of what we can buy right now. Sure I need clothes and toiletries, but there are other things I could need,” I noted.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Really now? What’s so urgent you need to spend more government money?” It seemed that his years away from the organization hadn’t made Gilpatrick ease up on protocol.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I could use some office supplies for organizing designs and plans. Oh, a computer, I actually could really use a computer. I never really saw modern society properly before now, so there’s a lot of stuff I could stand to research.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gilpatrick pulled out his phone and checked over what we had in the cart.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“They budgeted for the clothes being new, but we went to a thrift store, so accounting for all of this stuff we have around $150 left over. So no computer today, but you can get the office supplies. You’ll get issued a laptop in a few days anyways and I have a computer at my apartment if you desperately need to do research.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I’d take that win.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, let’s get those and then go and make sure the government knows I was born.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As we walked through the store I found the key to any good planning session and threw it in the cart. Gilpatrick picked it up and looked it over.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Rain, what the hell do we need red string for?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s a classic, according to Kenzie. We’re going to be doing some planning and I want to stay organized.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The records office trip had amounted to us filling out a few forms and throwing them into a drop box for the employees to sort through on Monday. Gilpatrick assured me that it was going to have a quick turnaround because of the PRT pushing it through, so I would legally start to exist sometime around Tuesday.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Once that was taken care of we went to a laundromat to get the new clothes washed. I took one of my new notebooks in with me and tried to use that time to organize my thoughts. I started by outlining everything I knew about Brockton Bay. While I never lived there myself I had been surrounded by people who had, so I managed to pick up a few things about the city.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I knew that when the Undersiders entered the scene the major players in the criminal world had been Lung’s gang, a bunch of nazis, and Coil, who had been their boss at the time. The divide in territory and power had been mostly even until a gang war broke out, that war was then interrupted by Leviathan leveling half the city and the Nine showing up. And somehow through all of that shit the Undersiders emerged as the overall winners and became the dominant power in the region, even holding that position through Gold Morning and onto Gimel.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>At the moment there were a couple things I needed their help to accomplish. I needed to protect Ashley and Victoria through the coming shitstorm, and Tattletale could have insight into how I could do that. And I needed to take out Heartbreaker. Imp had managed it once and Chastity’s brother was still alive, so he might be able to help too. While on the subject of people that were still alive, Taylor Hebert was still around. I hadn’t taken part in the fighting that day, but pretty much everyone that had refused to talk about her. I didn’t fully grasp how she did what she did, but I didn’t need to understand to be very careful around her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>On the other side of things, I was joining the Wards in the city. I knew Vista, and I had met Clockblocker and Kid Win since they had been brought back as part of the flock. As for the rest of them, I had only heard stories, and half of those were at Vista’s birthday party where I had been… not in the best state to absorb the information. I knew Gallant had dated Victoria and that he had died. The rest were relative blank spaces, but I would get to know them soon enough.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It should have been easy enough to plan from there, but last night had changed things. I sat staring at the page as my mind wrestled with itself. Gilpatrick’s words were hitting home for me. Things would be a lot easier for me if I brought Tattletale back to now. Dealing with the big picture was her bread and butter and she had been around until the end. She would know all the right moves. And the longer I considered it, the more I wanted to bring my friends back. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What’s the point of winning if I can’t be with them? Can I even handle being a stranger to the most important people in my life?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I wasn't going to try and trick myself into thinking this was all going to be easy. If I brought them back, then they would get dragged into the fight again. Some of them had given up being capes in general and I would be almost forcing them to start again. In some cases it would be cruel to them. I couldn’t imagine putting Sveta back into her old body. And my lack of knowledge mixed with case 70 weirdness meant things could easily go wrong if I tried to bring back Tristan and Byron, and that risk was at play for Ashley too, considering the cloning that revived her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Yet another reason to bring Tattletale back first, if I started bringing more people back. I needed the knowledge she could get, experimenting with time had the potential to make things go bad fast. Not to mention, just because Tattletale as I knew her would help us didn’t guarantee Tattletale now would. A lot could change in a person over five years. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I should know, after all.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As I dwelled on it, the scale was rapidly tipping in favor of pulling people back. Despite my reservations I struggled to find a good enough reason to not take advantage of the help this could provide. Billions of lives were on the line and if I didn’t do this right total annihilation was a very real threat. In the face of that I couldn’t prioritize a moral debate about whether bringing people back was wrong — I had to act. It sucked. I had spent the past year trying to build myself into someone who could make the right choices and my big golden problem was crashing through all of it. In the moment I could almost empathize with Cauldron, and that was a very disturbing feeling.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>On the other hand I couldn’t imagine how my friends would feel if I brought them back. The possibility that they would view it as a betrayal terrified me. And there was the matter of how they would feel about me making them hijack their younger bodies. I could try asking them for permission before I did it but that seemed more like a way to get institutionalized than solve my moral dilemma. At the end of the day I didn’t need to start with the team, I could take the time to be careful about this with them. Tattletale however... her opinion of me could take a backseat to saving the people I considered family.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I leaned back in my seat and the top of my head hit the glass behind me with a thud. I let out a sigh as I turned my head to face Gilpatrick.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You have no business making this much sense. I don’t like it,” I groused. Gilpatrick glanced up from his phone.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What am I right about now?” he asked.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ll need more help,” I ground out, resenting my own conclusion on the matter.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why the change of heart?” he asked.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I returned to a normal seated position and looked down at the notebook in my hands.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s too much. If Leviathan hitting the city were the end of the trouble, I would say we wait a while, but it’s not. It’s only the start. We need to have better information to see us through this. There’s only one woman for the job and we can’t just </span>
  <em>
    <span>hope</span>
  </em>
  <span> that she will help us.” The words were almost a whisper as I spoke them. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The dryer in front of us beeped loudly and Gilpatrick stood up from his seat.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We can talk more about this in the car, let's get your clothes bagged up and head back to the hotel.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Once back on the road Gilpatrick and I could finally get properly into the issues at hand.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Right now, aside from getting set up over in Brockton Bay, bringing Tattletale back is our primary mission.” I set out our goal before asking a question. “Do you have any idea how we can find her and the Undersiders?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I know they haven't really been big players up to this point, kept their heads down. They mostly did smash and grab jobs before the chaos broke out with the ABB. The first time they made the news was when they robbed a casino in Hampton. It was sometime in March if I’m remembering right. My squad got called in to help deal with the aftermath.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why the hell did they call in your squad, how bad could it have been?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gilpatrick opened his mouth to answer before he slammed on the brakes to avoid getting sideswiped by a car that was cutting us off.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fucking Masshole!” He took a deep breath. “Where was I? The damage?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I nodded.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well the place was gang turf, the casino paid protection money and this small time villain kept some of their goons posted there. So when the Undersiders hit the place a fight broke out, witnesses said it was short. The dogs burst through this big window in the back and mauled the gangsters. People panicked, some got hurt, and in the confusion they broke into the safe where the casino kept the week's take before they scrammed. Hampton office called us in to take care of the crime scene so they could go deal with the pursuit, but they got away.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Less information than I would have liked, but it was more than I knew before.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh, well that’s something I guess. I could get a scanner or something and wait for it to happen, what was the place called?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ruby </span>
  <em>
    <span>Something</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I think, the place had a gemstone theme going on.” A look of focus crossed Gilpatrick’s face. “You know, I think I actually remember when it happened. It was the day after St. Patrick's day. My squad and I had gone out drinking the night before and we spent the whole call complaining about our hangovers.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Perfect. So we know where they’ll go and when it's happening.” I smiled a bit. “You know it’ll be nice having someone else be the rookie for once. I know all their powers and how they work, I can take them when they’re this green. The Undersiders won’t know what hit them.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Slow your roll, Dirty Harry, we need a real plan. You can’t go into this half cocked because you think you’re all that,” he scolded me. “All your knowledge about them from when they were starting out is anecdotal, mostly from them, their kids, and Victoria. That’s only one good source, so don’t assume that this will be easy. What are you going to do? Lie in wait, ready to pull Tattletale into a closet and time shank her?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I could feel my face burning a bit.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Jesus, Gilpatrick tell me how you really feel. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“W-we are not calling it time shanking,” I stammered out. “And I’m not going to run in there guns blazing like a jackass. We have almost three weeks to get the plan together if your old man brain is remembering this right-” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck off, I’m not that old,” he grumbled. I continued on.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And I’ll be able to tinker in a lab soon, I can build some gear to make things go smoothly. I don’t need to fight them all, I only need to steal Tattletale away long enough to…” I frowned.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You were going to say time shank weren’t you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gilpatrick pulled the car into a parking spot and killed the engine.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, you head up to your room and get into some clean clothes. I’m going to go grab us some dinner from the Chinese place over there.” He gestured toward a small plaza across the street. “Sound good?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I nodded and after grabbing the bags I headed into the hotel.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Keep climbing. Don’t stop. They need you.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I clung hard to the rocky surface of the cliff, pain racking my hands. I looked up towards the top; I wasn’t too far now. The wind whipped the rainfall through the air to the point it was almost flying sideways, soaking me to the bone, but it didn’t matter, I had to keep climbing. I could hear their screams.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Rain! Help!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Help us!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I pushed forward. I reached up higher, my chains clattered against each other as my hand searched for purchase. They were so heavy.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Please let go! I need to get to the top or my friends will die!” I cried out in vain as I looked down at them. Hanging from the chains, they held firm — Snag, Ever, Valefor, Cradle’s soldiers, and countless faces from the mall — all of them stared back up at me blankly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And why should they do that, bastard! Don’t you owe it to them to carry them out? It's the least you could do,” Cradle called down from the top of the cliff.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>My hand gripped the stone and I began to pull myself up. The pain didn’t matter, I needed to get higher.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So, out of curiosity, is it hard to climb with so much blood on your hands?” Cradle taunted me again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I looked up and I saw he was right. My hands were covered in blood, dripping down my arms and coating me in it. I had to keep going; I reached higher once again. The craggy surface tore at my hands but stopping wasn’t an option. I knew where I was. The scent of brimstone burned my nose. It was hard to breathe.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I pulled up once more, the top was almost in reach. I could hear the screaming again. It was Chastity.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Rain, please! Hurry!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>My arms ached deeply with pain; it felt like they were being torn from their sockets.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Damn it, Rain! Climb!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I felt my hand clasp the top of the brink. I was nearly done.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m on my way, hold on!” I cried out.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I just had to bring myself up over the edge. A voice cut through the storm, like a whisper in my ear.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you really think it would be that easy?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I heard a loud snap and I began to fall. I saw my hand still clinging to the cliff, the end of Cradle’s whip dangling next to my severed appendage. I heard him call down to me for a final time, his voice a mix of disdain and glee.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Say hi to Satan for me, Precipice!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I woke with a start, sheets clenched in a deathgrip as I tried to level out my frantic breathing. An alarm clock on the nightstand was beeping at me. I slapped out at it until it was silent. With a deep steadying breath I positioned myself on the edge of the bed. I looked at the clock — 2:31 am. I had to get to the arena in half an hour. Gilpatrick and I had talked about it over dinner, and after a call to the PRT he managed to secure some time for me to go train. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I slid off of the bed and stumbled towards the bathroom until I could grip the rim of the sink. I ran the cold water and splashed myself in the face. I looked up and saw my reflection, tired and shaking.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck. It was just a dream, you’re fine. Get it together,” I spoke to my mirrored counterpart.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I dried my face and set about getting dressed, picking out my new workout clothes. Once I was ready to go I left the room and knocked on Gilpatrick’s door. He opened it, and I could see a steaming mug in his hands.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Alarm clocks work now,” I told him as I shuffled into the room and sat in a chair.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well that’s a relief. Do you think it’s because I stayed up?” Gilpatrick asked.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Not sure, but knowing I won’t always be catatonic at night is good news.” I stretched my back against the chair. “So did they give you a reason we have to go practice my powers in the middle of the goddamn night?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The middle of the night is the only time staff is cleared out. The city gave us 3 hours of private use, so let’s be grateful and work with it.” He stopped a moment to yawn. “Need I remind you that you’re the one who wanted to train before going to Brockton Bay.” Gilpatrick went back to polishing off his coffee.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He was right and I knew it, but that wouldn’t stop me from complaining a little bit. I noticed a bundle of papers and a laptop on Gilpatrick’s bed. I gestured toward them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s going on over there?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He looked up from his drink and followed my finger.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh you know, my resignation letter, Protectorate transfer forms, adoption guidelines, all the fun stuff.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeesh. They have forms for that?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gilpatrick nodded. “It pays to be prepared I guess. On the plus side I found out I’m getting a great severance package since I triggered. So long as I sign on with the Protectorate I receive a lump sum payment equal to two years in my current position and a pension which might actually mean something if the world doesn’t end.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That gave me some pause.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You know, in all this craziness I kinda forgot there might be an after,” I admitted.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s a little morbid, Rain.” Gilpatrick set down his mug and started pulling on his shoes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t mean I’m assuming we’re going to die. I just can’t picture what living the rest of our lives on Bet would even be like.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded in understanding. “Yeah, I can get that. Hopefully it will look like me retiring to a nice lake house while you go lead some hero team. Now let’s go see if you’ve got the right idea about this power change.” Gilpatrick opened the door.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>One short car ride later I was walking through the halls of the arena. Once I hit the end of the tunnel I noticed that it was freezing, and there were plexiglass shields blocking my path to the presumably icy floor. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Gilpatrick, why didn’t you mention this place was a hockey rink.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t think it was important. You said you needed walls, obstacles and space. This place has plenty of all three.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I couldn’t really argue with that. The room was big, around one hundred feet from floor to ceiling. Seats surrounded the rink in two tiers, with the top row about twenty feet from the roof. Through the center of the room there were narrow metal walkways lined with lights, and hanging from it was a large four sided scoreboard. The screen was still on, showing who had played tonight's match: ‘Manchester Monarchs VS Brockton Bay Regents’.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The fuck? Jean-Paul ripped off the local hockey team? Wait, focus.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, let’s do this.” I ran at the rink’s wall. My foot made contact and I could feel the shift in my momentum as I started running up the barricade. I reached the top and pushed off of it, going full speed toward the center of the ice.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hold that feeling.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Instead of falling back down I kept rising as I traveled forward. This was it. I had wondered why I had been able to use Love Lost’s power and the answer was simple — I hadn’t. Before I had been able to halt and redirect my momentum, but now I was able to preserve it on top of that. Flying through the air was exhilarating. I called over my shoulder in excitement.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Whoo! See that Gil? Nothing to i-” My face made contact with the bottom edge of the scoreboard at full speed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh fuck. Rain!” I heard Gilpatrick call out.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I was dazed for a moment, but I managed to stop myself a few feet before I hit the floor. I let my power go and hit the ground.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oof.” My face felt like it had been hit with a shovel. “I’m okay!” I called out as I set myself upright.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What the hell was that, Frazier?” Gilpatrick asked over the glass.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Gravity wasn’t working, threw me off,” I lied, completely ignoring the fact that I hadn’t been paying enough attention. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, be ready for that, I don’t want to spend the rest of the night with you in the ER.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I gave him a thumbs up. I bent my legs and with a jump I was off again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Let’s try that again.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Severed - 1.a</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Good Lord interludes are something else! I definitely prefer writing in first person over third person. The difference is subtle but it really messed up my flow during the writing process so I wouldn't expect these very often. As always I'd like to thank the fine folks over at Cauldron for their help during the editing process, especially Juff and CatBotSays. Y'all helped me turn this chapter into one I am far more happy with. And of course I would like to thank readers like YOU! Your continued support is the greatest motivation I could ask for!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Watching Rain practice his new power was stressful for Gilpatrick. While it was impressive to see the precise control it gave him when it was working, watching Rain lose control and slam into the floor again and again was doing his heart rate no favors. He was getting better as the time went on, with fewer instances of him getting hurt and pulling off more complicated maneuvers, but Gilpatrick couldn’t deny feeling a sense of relief once six o’ clock rolled around.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Alright, Rain we’ve got to wrap this up!” he called out.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Rain nodded and with a jump he cleared the walls and landed next to Gilpatrick in the stands. They began the walk back to the car.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So how much did you learn? Was this useful?” Gilpatrick asked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Rain looked lost in thought for a moment before answering.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It was. I think I’ve got a solid idea of how it works, but I’m a little spotty on some of its rules.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What exactly do you mean by rules?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So it's like this, I activate my power and I move in whatever direction I was going in at the same speed as when I started my power, and I can redirect myself. The problem I'm having is I can’t figure how many times I can change my direction. I can do it anywhere from two to seven times, but every time it felt exactly the same until I was falling.” He looked frustrated as he said that. Gilpatrick wasn’t about to let the kid start sulking.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No need to dwell on the negatives here. What good things did you learn, any positive takeaways?” he inquired as they entered the car.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The movement is sharp and it ignores gravity, so with practice I could probably use it to fly in short bursts. And I think I can be fast. Like really fast. I could jump off of a roof or my bike and fly around at... whatever the top speed I can manage is. I could probably move at terminal velocity if I flew high enough and let myself skydive.” Rain sounded excited about hurtling around at hundreds of miles an hour. Gilpatrick on the other hand was already feeling anxious at the prospect.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I wouldn’t mess with that quite yet. One mistake and you could wind up painting the sidewalk,” he half warned and half begged.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Your confidence in me is flattering, Gil, thank you,” Rain drawled.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Any time, Kid. So, after I get some sleep I’m going to go resign from my position and put in a request to gain custody of you. I expect to be back late tonight at the earliest, and they might come see you.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So you think they’ll-”  Rain had barely gotten the words out before Gilpatrick answered. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“One-hundred percent. If they don’t do some form of master effect screening I will be mortified by their incompetence. They’ll probably screen you too so we’ve got to get our story straight before I go in, but since you haven’t actually mastered me, and I’m not that much different from the man I was five years ago, I think it should be fine.” Gilpatrick yawned before continuing. “They know me and I think I can make them understand why I’m doing this, but they are going to be careful because of how sudden this is.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gilpatrick pulled them back into their spot and stopped the car. Rain’s brow furrowed as he looked over Gilpatrick.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We can talk about this more later, you look half dead right now. You need to be in a bed ASAP,” Rain told him. Gilpatrick gave a tired nod in return and they began the walk back up to their rooms.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>It was late at night and the light of the full moon cast a bright reflection across the waters of the Massabesic. The air was humid with the moisture of the lake, carried over on a light breeze. A younger Gilpatrick was slouching on a bench with a cigarette clenched between his lips. He had been there for a while, the dozen or so cigarette butts around his feet giving him a solid idea of how much time had passed.<br/><br/>Tonight was important. It had been a full year since they’d found Lucky and he still had nothing to show for it. After all of his fervent investigating, Captain Moreau had sat him down in his office and taken him off of the case. He had phrased it diplomatically, but Gilpatrick had got the message—he had to move on. Without any solid evidence incriminating Pirouette his investigation was <em> wasting resources </em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As he thought back to the captain's words he unconsciously bit through the filter on his cigarette. With a trembling hand he took it from his mouth and stomped it out under foot. Gilpatrick took a shuddering breath, closing his hands into tight fists. His heart was pounding in his chest; the anger he was struggling to push down wouldn’t be ignored any longer.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Yet underneath of all that anger the one person Gilpatrick was most furious with was himself. He was a failure. At every step of this tragedy he had failed in one way or another. He hadn’t been able to guide Lucky to a better path, he hadn’t kept him safe, and he hadn’t brought his killers to justice. It was eating him up inside.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As soon as his rage reached a crescendo it was like something inside him had collapsed leaving him only with shame. He had already tried to use logic to overcome his emotions, but all that did was confirm how he felt. He hadn’t done enough. A strong grip met his shoulder and Gilpatrick scrambled for his gun, before he saw who it was.</p>
<p><br/>“You can’t sulk here all night, Sean. Let’s get you home,” Sergeant Jameson said. Gilpatrick stilled as he heard the gravelly sound of his squad leader's voice. “And what did I tell you about smoking, you trying to drag the squad down? Take care of yourself for fuck’s sake.” <br/><br/>“Sorry, Sarge. I’m working on it,” Gilpatrick offered weakly. He stood up off the bench and cast one last look out at the lake. Even though they had removed the body, Gilpatrick could only see Lucky Break’s watery grave.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> I’m sorry, Kid. I tried. </em>   <br/><br/></p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>When Gilpatrick came to his senses he was standing in a recreation of his old apartment, from before Gold Morning. He had been here the night before, but he had rushed out before he could take it in when he had heard Rain’s screams through the walls. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He felt numb after reliving that moment, like something inside him had broken just a little bit more. He moved himself over to his bed and let himself fall onto it back first, leaving him staring up at the ceiling.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> How the fuck could Rain do this every night? That’s hellish. I guess that's the point. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gilpatrick couldn’t find it in himself to leave the bed. He knew he should probably go check on Rain, but the need for a moment alone won out. He stayed where he was until the room faded around him. </p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>When Gilpatrick finally opened his eyes the afternoon sun was already peeking through the curtains of his room. Physically, he figured this was the best his body had felt in days. Even without the current stresses of time travel being involved he’d been having more than his fair share of sleepless nights. It’d only been a week since the cage people had been set loose in Nashua, and that meant he had just had a break up as well. Five years on and the reminder still caused a dull pain in his heart. Merindah had made him pick what was more important—his job or her—an unfortunately common thread in his love life. If she had asked before Nashua had happened he probably would have given it all up to be with her, but the horrors he had seen had been a reminder of how necessary his job really was.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Yesterday he had spent as much time as he could going over his recent texts and calls to piece together what stage of recovery he'd been at before he’d suddenly gained five years distance from all of those feelings. Looking through, he had gathered that he had mostly got himself together. His assignment to watch Rain had been a way to ease him back in after having to step away for a few days. His squad had been concerned, probably still were if he was being honest.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gilpatrick rolled himself out of bed and saw to making himself presentable. Once he was dressed properly he picked up the stack of paperwork he had spent the previous night filling out. He headed out the door and immediately turned to Rain’s room, knocking firmly on the door, and Rain let him in. Gilpatrick caught a whiff of smoke and saw the demonic mask clenched in Rain’s hand, but he clamped down on his power and the sensation faded. The only thing that Rain was holding was a mechanical pencil.<br/><br/>The kid still looked tired, but he almost always had dark circles beneath his eyes so it was hard to tell. Rain headed over to the desk in the corner of the room and started sketching furiously in one of the notebooks they had bought the day before. A quick glance showed that it was a design for his costume.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It looks good,” Gilpatrick complimented as he broke the silence.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thanks, I’ve got to get this stuff in order before we go to the city. I’m not letting some PRT suit tell me how to dress or what to call myself, and the best way to do that is getting ahead of it, I think. I doubt they’ll be that difficult, but I really want them to stay out of this. I’ve been working on ways for them to merchandise the look to make my case stronger, but I don’t know shit about clothes so it's a little rough.” Rain was rambling a bit, but Gilpatrick was willing to let him work out whatever had him all wound up. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Speaking of said suits, I’ve got to go talk to them. So, we need to make sure we go into this on the same page,” Gilpatrick said.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Rain stopped his drawing and spun the office chair around.<br/><br/>“Alright. So what’s our plan? You know the people involved better than I do,” he noted. <br/><br/></p>
<p>“I’m thinking knowing less about my end of things makes your role in the plan more genuine. Mostly you just need to tell them you would be fine with having me as your guardian and deny any mentions of mental compulsion from me or you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Rain stared blankly at him for a moment.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s it?” he asked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gilpatrick shrugged.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, pretty much. I’m afraid that most of this depends on me convincing them. You just need to seem agreeable to the situation. I’m handing them a solution to the question of your care in Brockton Bay on a silver platter— and the PRT does not like silver platters so it’s going to be tedious, but I don’t think it’ll be too bad.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Gil, uh, don’t they use powers to screen people when stuff like this is involved?” Rain queried.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s a little complicated. The answer is yes, but how in depth will depend on how suspect the whole thing seems. I've always had a heart for kids, which is how I ended up with my job at patrol block. Me deciding I should help you isn’t something that will seem unlike me. Only very sudden,” Gilpatrick rationalized. “We have to try regardless, so... think happy thoughts I guess.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fair enough. Go get em, Gil. I’ll be telling people that you're not my Dad in no time.” Rain’s enthusiasm was forced, but appreciated nonetheless. Gilpatrick could use the pep talk for what he was about to do.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Captain Jameson looked up over the papers in his hands incredulously. The narrowing of his eyes emphasized his deep set crow’s feet, and his scowling expression was accentuated by his bushy gray mustache. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sean, what the fuck is this? It’s not April fools’ day you know.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> God, I’ve missed you, Cap. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Good thing I mean it then, Captain,” Gilpatrick declared.<br/><br/>Jameson got up from his desk to close the door to his office and draw the blinds. Gilpatrick was doing his best to keep calm. The captain had been his mentor when he started out and Gilpatrick had never really shaken that impression of him. Even as a veteran of two apocalypses, few things made him more nervous than displeasing the old man. It had been a long time since he had faced this—the last time he’d seen Jameson, the world was ending, and he hadn’t made it out. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You triggered,” he stated clearly. “Was it what happened in Nashua?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Asking a question like that was generally discouraged, but the captain had never been afraid of stepping on toes. Taboos were for other people in his eyes, though others frequently disagreed with that assessment—Gilpatrick included. Jameson cared more about getting to the heart of a matter.<br/><br/>“Partially,” was all Gilpatrick offered.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Okay. You know you don’t have to quit because of that. You’re still a good agent, Sean. I was going to put your name in for the Lieutenant position that’s opening up next month when David retires,” Jameson told him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gilpatrick shook his head; he’d already known. He had turned it down last time as well. He'd always believed he could do more in the field than behind a desk. And staying in the PRT after triggering was something he couldn’t do. It went against their mission and he refused to compromise on it. He had left the Patrol block for the same reason.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You might want to finish reading what I gave you, sir. There’s a request I need you to pass along,” Gilpatrick told him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He shifted in his seat as his captain walked around his desk and began sifting through the papers. After a more thorough reading he looked up at Gilpatrick.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but give me one good reason you aren’t compromised. I’ll be honest Sean, this reeks of master compulsion. You’ve known the kid for barely 48 hours, but you want to take him in and run off to Brockton Bay to play hero?” Jameson’s tone was callous but his expression belied the concern he was feeling. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“If this is really coming from you, prove it to me.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The die had been cast, he wasn’t going to get another chance.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Cap… do you still remember Lucky Break?” Gilpatrick said, the words barely audible.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes, Sean. I do.” Jameson said quietly. The two hadn’t talked about him in years, not since that night at the lake.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The kid—Rain—he reminds me of him a bit. Not because he’s bold or confident or anything like that, but because he seems like something is weighing on him and he’s putting up a front to hide it. The last few times I saw Lucky he looked like he had that same weight on his shoulders... and I wasn’t able to help him. I’m not going to be hands off this time, Cap.” Gilpatrick’s words gained strength as he spoke until all that was left was his conviction.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I triggered, and do you want to know what I can do? I can sense delusions. Every little lie a person internalizes is right there with them, twisted messy things that grab on and don’t let go. So, now I know for certain when something is wrong. When I look at this kid, I can see the chains digging into him, smell smoke on the air, feel the pain and doubt racking him deep in my own chest. And I want to help this time before it’s too late.” Gilpatrick stopped short, taking a deep breath he hadn’t realized he’d needed. “Do you think it’s <em> coming from me </em> now?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It had been a long time since he had spoken so frankly about his power; there were few things Gilpatrick hated more. He had spent years shining light on the darkest corners the world could offer him, trying to root out the evil that hid in them. Now Gilpatrick had to see all the ways those dark corners clung to the people who had been unfortunate enough to wander into them, and even the most merciful of those encounters left people carrying a false sense of safety with them for years after. In the days before he had gotten better at holding back his power, he had seen the shattered remains of normalcy everyone around him was carrying after the Titans and Scion. It had hurt to see how broken those around him felt. He had to give his all to make a world where that wouldn’t happen.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jameson walked back over to Gilpatrick. After a searching stare the captain began coaxing him up from his seat.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You need to take some time away from the kid until I can have somebody vet this,” he said with finality.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Do I really seem that unlike myself?” Gilpatrick asked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, you certainly seem like yourself, albeit I think you’re going through some things right now that are throwing you off. But I need to do this right. And I think<em> you </em> need to take a break, Sean. You look like shit,” Jameson told him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gilpatrick decided he’d let the comment slide considering Jameson was probably right. He let out a long sigh.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fine, but I’ll be staying here then. My apartment is no man's land right now. Who’s going to keep an eye on the kid while I’m gone?” he asked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I think I will,” Jameson replied. “He just cost me my best field agent, so I might as well see what all the hubbub is about.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>They walked down the hall until they reached the room Gilpatrick would be spending the next day stuck in. The furnishings were spartan but not uncomfortable. It was almost nostalgic. He had spent more than his fair share of nights there resting after long missions.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Typical protocol, Sean. No contact with the kid until we have you cleared. It shouldn’t take Watchdog more than a day to confirm if you’re good.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Got it, Captain.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And Sean, if you’d be willing to humor me, what do you see when you look at me? I’d like to keep a more realistic perspective,” Jameson asked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gilpatrick grimaced and closed his eyes briefly. When they opened he could see what clung to Jameson, and despite himself he chuckled a bit. As he focused he could faintly hear the ticking of a clock, and there was a calendar stuck to Jameson’s hand with a date circled in it. October 11, 2013. He remembered the date, he had announced his retirement a year out last time. It seemed he hadn’t come around to the idea yet.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nothing to worry about, Cap. I’d just suggest you get comfortable with retiring, because right now, I don’t think you really believe it’s going to happen.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gilpatrick felt some tension leave him. It was somehow comforting to know that retirement was the worst thing that Jameson had to contend with. His captain was standing there, struggling to find the words to answer him, so to save him the trouble Gilpatrick just gave him a nod and stepped into the room.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Just go easy on the kid, alright?” he asked as he settled into a chair. “He’s had quite the time of it since he triggered.”</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>“A little bit more to the right,” Rain told him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gilpatrick shifted the painting.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“This good?” he asked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, you’ve got it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gilpatrick stepped back down from the stepladder and took a look at the mantle. The painting was of a sailboat out on a lake. Funnily enough it had been Rain who had picked it out, making some jab about his retirement plans. The rest of the mantle was covered in plants that the store worker had assured didn’t need frequent watering: aloe, jade, spider plants, and a tall snake plant. There were others interspersed throughout the main common areas with the occasional art piece fit in wherever things might have been a little sparse.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Looking around Gilpatrick got the impression they may have gone a touch overboard with the decorating. They’d spent some time online trying to figure out how to make the new place look homey for when the social workers would check in, and they’d run with the plant advice. Only, now that they were standing in it, the whole house looked more greenhouse than home to Gilpatrick.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Do you think we overdid it with the plants?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah,” Rain answered, drawing the word out. “I think the damage is done. We’re garden people now.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gilpatrick chuckled.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Looking around, I’ve got to agree,” he said as he took stock of the few remaining boxes strewn about the room. “Have you finished unpacking your room?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Rain shook his head. “I still have a few boxes to finish in there. Once I’m done with that I’m gonna head into the garage and work on my bike for a bit. Maybe do some more design work while I’m at it.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> There he goes again with this designing. I doubt branding will be that bad. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gilpatrick kept his opinion to himself. If Rain had decided making his cape identity pitch was a good outlet for nerves he wouldn’t get in the way of that.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Alright, you do that. Let me know when you want to have dinner,” Gilpatrick said. The words felt strange as he said them. He hadn’t lived with anyone except for his girlfriends since he had been in his twenties and the dynamic at play here felt very different. He figured it was going to take a bit for his role as guardian to start feeling normal.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gilpatrick made his way up the stairway and walked into his bedroom. He crossed the room and slumped into a chair at his desk looking out the window, taking in the sight of Brockton Bay’s skyline to the east. The past week had felt like a whirlwind. Once Watchdog had reported he was clear his days had been nothing but meetings with social workers, paperwork, and house hunting. It had been exhausting even with the PRT speeding things along.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Moving out of Manchester had been the easiest part and he had still needed to talk with Merindah to let her know the apartment was all hers once he’d moved out. That had been… awkward to put it lightly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The house they found had been a steal, with Brockton Bay’s economy being what it was; he had managed to find a three bedroom house a few minutes north of Captain’s Hill that fell nicely under budget, with owners that were eager to sell after months on the market. The main reason they had bought the house was the location. A hundred feet above sea level and far from the coast, the house wasn’t likely to be hit by Leviathan’s rampage — if he showed up. Gilpatrick had still set up for the highest degree of coverage his home insurance allowed. No point in tempting fate until the city settled down. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Rain had insisted on having a guest room in case anyone needed to stay the night. Gilpatrick was assuming that anyone meant Victoria based on the furnishings Rain had picked out for the room, but he figured everyone that Rain would bring back was going to wind up staying in there at some point or another. And the finished basement was where they had decided to keep all things cape and time travel related. Gilpatrick had even given in to Rain’s whims and bought a large corkboard and several whiteboards for them to make plans on. The room would be a proper conspiracy den in no time. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>After spending the morning taking care of the moving process and directing furniture deliveries through the house, Gilpatrick was relieved to have a moment's reprieve from it all. He let out a long sigh as he leaned back into the chair and let himself relax. The calm before the storm was something he wouldn’t take for granted. Tomorrow was Rain’s first day at school and both of their meetings with the Image department at the Protectorate HQ.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Better enjoy this while it lasts, the real work starts tomorrow. </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Cleave - 2.1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N: I have returned from beyond the grave to update this story! Sorry it wound up taking so long. Fall and Winter are the busy season in my line of work so my downtime got the axe, but I assure you the writing shall continue despite my less than ideal pace.  As is custom I'd like to thank the fine folks over at Cauldron for their help during the editing process, especially Juff who helped me immensely regarding the portrayal of one of this chapters characters. And of course thank YOU for reading! Your presence is the difference between a story and me shouting into the void and I am ever grateful for it.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Come on, Rain. Up and at em,” Gilpatrick called from my doorway.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I opened up my eyes and was immediately met with a face full of light shining in from the hallway. I let out a groan and rolled over to face away from the door.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ugh. I’ve changed my mind. Middle school is a waste of time, I’m staying home. I don’t care what the PRT says. I'm a grown-ass man, I don’t have to put up with this.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I heard footsteps hit the wood floor behind me. With one quick movement Gilpatrick grabbed the corner of my comforter and pulled it off my bed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Cold,” I said.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“If you’re going to pull the grown man card then man up, Rain. School’s not that bad, you even get to skip out early because you’re a Ward.” Gilpatrick paused to sip his mug of coffee. “Back in my day we had to sit through the full eight hours at school, none of this half day nonsense.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and sat myself up. I half-heartedly glared at Gilpatrick.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“This is bullshit, would you want to go through school a second time? Because I doubt it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, unfortunately what we <em> want </em>is not the establishment's concern. You need to show up or the Youth Guard will be jumping down our throats right out the gate, so you're going to go. If it’s that big of a problem you should have thought about that before you decided to join the Wards. You agreed you would only skip when something important had to happen so don’t try to back out on that. Start getting ready and I’ll finish cooking up breakfast.” Gilpatrick didn’t stick around to argue with me so I settled for grumbling my discontent as I shuffled to the bathroom.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Once I had finished brushing my teeth and tidying my hair I went back into my room and started rifling through my closet, trying to decide what to wear for my school debut.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> If it ain’t broke don’t fix it. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I settled on a white t-shirt and a pair of dark jeans. Then threw a blue flannel on top and buttoned it up to about halfway before grabbing my new green jacket to finish the look. I stepped back into the bathroom and checked myself over in the mirror. I hadn’t committed any of the fashion ‘sins’ Chastity had drilled into my head so I must have looked alright. With that satisfied I headed downstairs.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As I made my way into the kitchen the first thing I noticed was the familiar smell of biscuits and gravy, an old favorite that had been hard to justify making on Gimel with supplies so low and meat so costly. It had been ages since that wonderful scent had graced my nose. I was so caught up in reminiscing it took me a while to notice there was music playing.<br/><br/>I had mentioned my lack of familiarity with most music and Gilpatrick had taken that as an excuse to play album after album for me to ‘refine my taste’. I recognized the singer’s voice from the car ride yesterday as he sang over a jaunty piano. <br/><br/>“More Jim?” I asked as I reached into the cabinet for a glass. <br/><br/>“Of course. Croce is a classic. He was, er, is rather, my father’s favorite singer.” Gilpatrick cringed at his slip up. His parents had passed during the first winter on Gimel and he was still adjusting to having them back. <br/><br/>“I spent my whole childhood listening to his music, so I’ve got a bit of a soft spot for his work. Do you want to listen to something else?” Gilpatrick asked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, I like it. Some of his songs remind me of the sort of things Allie used to sing when she would play in her room,” I said.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gilpatrick extended a plate loaded up with the good stuff and I took it eagerly as I sat down at the table and began tucking it away with gusto. I made it through about half the plate without saying a word before Gilpatrick saw fit to disrupt my heartfelt reunion.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So, I take it you like the food?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That snapped back my attention. I started to answer before I realized my mouth was full and settled for an enthusiastic nod.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Good,” Gilpatrick said, holding back a chuckle at the look on my face. “I’ve got to head into the HQ to sort out the last of our paperwork. Try to not be miserable at school and don’t do anything I wouldn’t approve of. I’ll see you around noon.”<br/><br/>“Alright, see ya then,” I said before I dove back into breakfast. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Aside from the meal being really good, I did have to hurry if I didn’t want to miss the bus. I finished my food as quickly as I could before clearing my plate and making my way down into the basement. The room had come together quite nicely and was starting to feel like a suitable replacement for the old HQ, the only thing missing was my team.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Don’t think like that, they wanted out of the game so respect that. Even if you get them back, don't force this craziness on them. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>My corkboard was already getting filled with ideas from a brief planning session I’d had yesterday once I’d finished working on my identity pitch—index cards, red string, and the occasional picture webbed out across about a third of the board covering all the intel I had on the Undersiders and their associates.</p>
<p><br/>I probably knew more than anyone who wasn’t actually a part of the gang itself, but there were still some things that eluded me. The most frustrating for me among them was Cassie’s whereabouts—I was fairly sure she lived somewhere around the city—but I had no leads. It was selfish, but I was holding out hope I might be able to bring at least one of my friends back without traumatizing them, and she was the prime candidate. <br/><br/>I walked over to the bar that I’d been using for a desk and grabbed the folder with my designs in it. I’d be headed straight to the Protectorate HQ after school so I‘d have to bring them with me. After a quick check to ensure that I had everything I left the house and headed to my bus stop. <br/><br/><em> Fucking school. Such bullshit. I should have been a homeless vigilante. At least I wouldn’t be stuck in middle school. </em></p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Franklin Pierce Junior High School—a bit of a shithole. I’d rate it maybe two out of five. Not the worst school I’d ever seen, but that was more thanks to the Fallen’s low <em> low </em> standards than the school’s quality. The building was rough in a way that I didn’t think government owned buildings could even be pre-Gold Morning: lots of chipped tiles, damaged furniture, and small graffiti tags all over the place—overall the school looked like it had a severe aversion to maintenance. There were other small tells that the place was probably underfunded. The lockers were the old-school one tall door kind and the classrooms all still used chalkboards when even I knew those were getting phased out. <br/><br/>My first two classes—math and history respectively—went by without much fanfare. I had to go through the whole new student routine, but I had changed schools enough times growing up that it wasn’t unfamiliar to me. I spent most of the time keeping to myself, only answering when spoken to. Nothing against all the kids, but I wasn’t about to try and find friends there. My quota for friends in their early teens had been met quite thoroughly by Kenzie, Aiden, and the younger Heartbroken, and I had no desire to expand that list.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>However, that changed rather quickly during roll call in English class: there was a name that stuck out to me.<br/><br/>“Aisha?” the teacher called. <br/><br/>“Here.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Holy shit. Please be who I think it is. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I scanned across the classroom until I found her. Appearance-wise she definitely fit the bill. High cheekbones, dark eyes, and a purple highlight in her hair. There was no doubt about it, I was looking at Imp writ small.<br/><br/>On some level I wasn’t very surprised to run into her, We were around the same age and there were only so many schools in the city; there was no reason I wouldn’t be classmates with one of the people I knew. It still felt weird seeing someone other than me rewound back to childhood. It was different with Gilpatrick; five years meant far less to my impression of him compared to people my own age. Aisha was so much smaller than she should have been. <br/><br/>Ignoring the disconnect I was feeling, this could be important. No matter what, I now knew where a member of the Undersiders was and that was a lead I didn’t have before. Unfortunately it wasn’t something I could capitalize on yet. It would be a bad idea to try and bring her back now—aside from the passing out I had no idea if there were limits or complications to the power I wasn’t privy to.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The possibility that I misunderstood how it worked was the main reason finding Tattletale was so important. If I tried to bring someone back and wound up maiming them instead I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself. The only situation I’d risk it with was if Tattletale refused to tell me anything, and even that was only because I figured that if she wasn’t talking it meant I wasn’t likely to cut her in half when I tried—Tattletale had enough survival instincts to not play that sort of game… At least I hoped that was the case. <br/><br/>The watch token had reappeared with the others before I woke up on saturday morning—about a week after I brought Gilpatrick back—and it had continued to appear each night after that. I was feeling confident it would be sticking around until I used it again so there was no need to rush into it. <br/><br/>The bell rang, and I realized I’d spent all of english trying to figure out how I should try to approach her. Luckily, Aisha was in my Science class afterwards so I still had a shot. I was realizing that my social circle had mostly been formed by being stuck around the other Fallen kids growing up, or from people I had met through cape stuff, starting with the group therapy. Everyone after that had been through missions with the team. This led me to the unfortunate realization that I’d pretty much never made small talk that was relatable to non-capes. It was usually about the tinkering the Wardens let me get up to while I was on parole, and occasionally my job looting ruined buildings—nothing that would work for me here. My hobbies outside of all that consisted of being bad at cooking and trying to catch up with pop culture, since the cult I’d been raised in wasn’t big on cinema. It wasn’t until the end of class that I had decided on my angle of attack. <br/><br/><em> Well, Chastity never said Imp liked cooking, so movies it is I guess. </em> <br/><br/>On the way out of class I stopped at her desk and asked her a question. <br/><br/>“Hey, do you know which way I need to go to find the cafeteria?” <br/><br/>Aisha let out a quiet sigh before turning to answer me. <br/><br/>“Alright, New Kid, follow me. I’m headed there anyways.” <br/><br/>“Thanks. I’m Rain by the way.” <br/><br/>I offered my hand for a handshake before almost immediately lowering it when I realized that might seem weird. Aisha had the good grace to not give me any shit over it and instead just introduced herself as we walked out of the classroom. <br/><br/>“Aisha. So ‘Rain’, huh? What's the deal with that? Are your parents hippies or some shit?” <br/><br/>I started to laugh but choked and had a brief coughing fit. The image of my parents being peace loving van dwellers was the last thing I would have imagined. <br/><br/>“Ah, no. That’s about as far as you could get from them actually,” I said. <br/><br/></p>
<p>“Weather fanatics then?” Aisha teased.<br/><br/>I weighed my options and decided I would tell her the truth; it could help me keep her interest. If I could manage to befriend her I would have a solid connection to the Undersiders, no time travel necessary. Besides, we were kinda friends before—if you could call our interactions friendly. She had mostly spent time poking fun at me, like when she started to call herself my future mother-in-law to embarrass me in front of Chastity. Mostly harmless stuff, and it had always seemed good natured. <br/><br/>“Rain o’ Fire.” <br/><br/>“Bless you,” Aisha snarked. <br/><br/></p>
<p>“It’s my full name,” I explained. “My parents were—I guess you could call them religious, but that kinda undersells it. They named me after the literal wrath of God.” <br/><br/>Aisha started laughing until she noticed I wasn’t joining her. She raised her eyebrows at me, her eyes slightly widened with surprise. <br/><br/>“You’re fucking with me right?” <br/><br/>“Nope, it’s as real as it gets. Genesis 19:24, they made sure I had it memorized.” <br/><br/>“Damn, sorry I asked about it,” Aisha said. <br/><br/>“It’s fine, it's not a secret or anything. I’ve been asked so many times that I’ve just about run out of fucks to give. Besides you don’t seem the type to make a huge thing of it.” <br/><br/>That was a lie of course. I knew she loved giving people shit, but sometimes expectations could nudge behavior. I had extended an olive branch from a vulnerable position and I had a feeling she wouldn’t punch down. Trying to manipulate her made me feel shitty though. I had been doing stuff like that a little too often lately and it was starting to weigh on me. I could try and blame it on the overall situation or experiences with my emotion power giving me a better understanding of how people tick, but the buck stopped with me and I wanted to be better than that. For now though, my need to make connections was beating out my conscience, so I would have to live with it for a while longer. <br/><br/>“Yeah, of course,” she said. <br/><br/>Aisha led us down a set of stairs and I could hear the dull roar of the cafeteria through the next set of doors. If I wanted to keep talking to her I’d have to take the initiative.</p>
<p><br/>“Would it be cool if I sat with you? I haven't really talked with anyone else and sitting alone sucks.” <br/><br/>“Sure, I guess.” <br/><br/>“Thanks,” I said. There was no need to fake the relief in my voice. <br/><br/>I smiled at her before I set about finding the lunch line. Once I emerged with my food I looked around for Aisha’s table until I spotted her towards the back of the cafeteria. I took a deep breath before heading over. <br/><br/><em> Okay, Rain. You got a foot in the door, it’s showtime. Now keep it light. Talk about movies or some shit, don’t scare her off. </em> <br/><br/></p>
<hr/>
<p><br/>The rest of lunch went alright. I met Aisha’s school friends—a pack of troublemakers and class clowns—and I hadn’t been thrown out or done anything weird so I figured I didn’t fuck up too badly. I even got a few movie recommendations worth checking out. Aisha and I exchanged phone numbers by the end of it so things had gone better than expected. <br/><br/>Once the bell rang I had to find the car that would take me to Protectorate HQ. I was pretty lost until a voice rang out over the school’s tinny intercom. <br/><br/>“Rain Frazier to the front office.” <br/><br/>My driver must have taken the initiative to find me. Now that I knew where to go I made my way over. I arrived at the office and found a woman dressed in what I was starting to imagine was the PRT’s dress code when they weren’t expecting combat—Slacks, a button up blouse, and a windbreaker. This time the PRT affiliation wasn’t hidden though, the acronym was written across her back in bold print for all to see. <br/><br/></p>
<p>“Sorry I’m late, I still haven’t figured out the layout here so I wasn’t sure where I’d find you. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Just be sure to not make a habit of it. No need to mess with such a good opportunity. These internships are rare and I’m sure there’s a dozen other kids who would be interested in taking your spot from under you,” she responded brusquely.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ll be sure to be on time going forward ma’am,” I acknowledged. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She led me out of the building to a nondescript sedan. It took around 15 minutes to get from the school to the bridge that led across the bay to the Protectorate HQ. I took in the sight as we drove towards it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The base was striking. Since it had been built on a platform the only way for them to expand was to build up, and they had certainly embraced that—the whole base looked like they had cut a block out of downtown and thrown it into the bay, covered it in as many supports as was possible, then slapped a forcefield on top of everything to make sure no one mistook it for somewhere vulnerable. It was as impressive as it looked; excessive for a team of fewer than ten people.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>My escort offered me a mask that would have covered the top half of my face.<br/><br/>“Is there anyone not affiliated with the PRT here?” I asked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Shouldn’t be,” she said.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Then I’m all set,” I said. I’d never maintained a secret identity before and I didn’t have anything to protect so it seemed a little silly to start now.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>We exited the car and made our way inside the main building. My escort guided me through the compound towards the conference room I was meant to meet the Image department at.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>It was almost funny how attached I was to still being Precipice. When I had chosen the name it hadn’t been one I was very pleased with, only the best among bad options. At some point those feelings changed; I wasn’t sure if I could put a finger on exactly when it had shifted. It was probably around when I had met the Heartbroken kids and Aiden—him especially. There was something about how they would talk to me that helped me feel like Precipice was more than just a codename. When they said it, it had sounded like the name of a hero.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I wasn’t about to give that up, so I had to show up with an ironclad concept that the Image department wouldn’t be able to refuse. Luckily I had an upper hand in in this fight—my costume’s design. I’d had a hard time getting the costume right when I started out, and after all of the changes I made the only things that stayed consistent were the hood and mask, and even that had seen a significant redesign. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>I could still remember when I had thought I’d found a decent theme with a circuit board look and Ashley dashed my notions with a single word. I hadn’t even known its meaning at the time, but her dismissive tone said it all. Later that evening I was left sputtering over the dictionary as I realized that when she called my designs ‘puerile’ she had meant my ideas were childish. She had offered to help after she had said it, and Vic helped out too after trying to lessen the blow, but Ashley’s comment had cut far deeper than I think she’d meant for it to.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>From then on I cared far more about making sure my costume was the best it could be. I took in every criticism and kept reworking it until no one I shared my design with was able to find fault in it. By the time I had finished, it was something I could wear with the confidence that I actually looked like the hero I was trying to be. When it came right down to it, the costume had become important to me. I’d faced the Titanomachy in it, I’d beat Mama Mathers and Valefor in it, I had cut the Simurgh in half in it—nobody was going to take it from me.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> So why the fuck am I so nervous? </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I took a deep breath and pushed open the door to the conference room. Gilpatrick and a man with blond slicked-back hair were huddled over a laptop. I could hear another voice coming from the laptop itself imperiously shooting something down.<br/><br/>“So, do you tailor things to custom specifications?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, though I’d note that's not what we had in mind with the name,” Gilpatrick answered.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was subtle, but he sounded slightly annoyed. He was doing a good job holding it back, I was only able to tell due to familiarity rather than any obvious behaviors.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Your costume design begs to differ with its suit motif—no. Minute-man only sounds like he shrinks until you put him in a tricorn hat.” The laptop continued to tear his proposal apart. “I understand that the power is more abstract, but that's no excuse for laziness in the designs—I expect better work from you, Malcolm. I’m vetoing Bespoke.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I reached the table and pulled out a rolling chair, and gave a wave to Gilpatrick as I sat down. He nodded at me in return with a pained smile on his face. The blond man—who I assumed was named Malcolm—noticed my arrival.<br/><br/>“Sir, the other cape is here. Should I call you back when we have both designs?” He sounded hopeful but that didn’t last long. <br/><br/>“No, I don’t think so. This name is a bit of a hard nut to crack and I want to see if you can make this work. Besides the other is a Ward isn’t he?” Malcolm nodded. “Then I may as well stay and make sure this goes right, I haven’t forgotten your department's incident back in ‘09. We can’t have another Clockblocker on our hands.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I decided that was as good a cue as I could ask for. I needed to cut in now before this got away from me.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I wouldn’t worry about me too much. It’s already sorted—the only thing left to do is get me to the tailors.”<br/><br/>Gilpatrick wheeled his chair away from the table and grinned at me. <br/><br/>“Don’t be shy. We have the head of Image on the horn, come introduce yourself,” Gilpatrick said, sounding only a little smug on my behalf. <br/><br/>I slid my chair into Gilpatrick’s old spot and subsequently the camera's view. On the screen there was a pudgy guy with his hair gelled up into some kind of mohawk. He was wearing a shirt so gaudy it could have given my turtle shirt a run for its money in the awfulness department.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Call me Precipice,” I said with as much bravado as I could muster.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No. But you can call me Glenn.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Cold,” I noted for the second time that day. “But lucky for me, <em> Glenn, </em> I’m not asking”—I held up my folder—“I’m dictating.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And with that I burned the last of my prepared lines for the meeting.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ooh, I suppose you have my attention. Malcolm, go over the other designs for a moment. I’ve reviewed the names and you already had one that’s perfect in there, so sort it out yourself and remind me why I hired you. I’ll see what’s got the boy so confident.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Malcolm nodded and began clearing papers away from a section of the table with a camera situated a couple feet above its surface. Once it was clear I moved over to it, opened my folder and pulled out the designs for my costume and laid them across the table. One was a more artistic design showcasing how I planned for it to look overall, the others was more akin to blueprints and were spread across multiple pages. Glenn looked them over for a moment.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No hood,” was the first of Glenn’s objections.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why not? Look at the blueprints, there’s a wire frame on the inside to keep it from obstructing my view and ensure it sits right. It won’t look stupid or anything.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“They give the impression the hero wearing it is hiding something. Hoods say ‘back alley deal’ more than they say hero and it’s bad enough Shadow Stalker still has one.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“If hoods are good enough for <em> Eidolon </em> I think they’re good enough for me. Besides, it keeps water away from my electronics if there’s a storm and it hides the mask’s release latch on my helmet. It’s not only an aesthetic decision, there's functions attached. It’s not like it’s a liability in a fight.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“There is more to a costume than what works in a fight, it's also a key part of your presentation to the public. I like the thought you’ve put into it, so the hood can stay, but you’ve got to get rid of the crack designs. They imply that you’re breakable, and that isn’t something you want to put out there in this line of work. I can already see the headlines about us putting fragile youths into harm's way. And if villains subconsciously decide you are the softest target because of them things could get messy,” Glenn said.<br/><br/></p>
<p>That point had some merit to it—if you believed I was a cape with no experience—but considering I had seen more combat than could be expected of any Ward I wasn’t too concerned with the idea that it might paint a target on me. I actually would feel better about it; by gunning for me the villains wouldn’t be aiming for the others. Unfortunately I doubted that was the kind of answer that would encourage them to let me do what I wanted so I opted for the more technical route.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The detailing is two fold. It’s designed to serve as a kind of symbol for me—things I hit with my blades look similar to that and it could be useful for unifying branding and merchandise—and it also lures strikes to those areas.” I wasn’t about to let this guy take my motif from me because he thinks I’m weak, so it was time to bullshit. “The cracks are in the designs my power gives me, they might not be able to be removed so I was trying to get something out of them. The mask and arms are designed so that they can be booby trapped. I just need to know what sort of things I can put in there since I’m pretty sure you won’t let me fill them with knives.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Glenn nodded his head and then he spoke.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Knives are problematic. I’ll leave the kind of traps you can use to Armsmaster’s discretion, he should know the appropriate levels of force and be able to help you figure out how to implement them. Don’t get too attached to the idea—if you get injured the Youth Guard may make us change it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s fair enough,” I said.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“While on the topic of injury I would be remiss if I didn’t fix this. You need more armor. Covering your kidneys and shoulders is all well and good, but most of your important organs live in your chest which you have decided not to shield. You need something to protect your center of mass. It could be a breastplate or something you wear underneath if you want it to be subtle, but protecting your core is non negotiable. The other Wards have similar protection and you aren’t skipping it. I refuse to let some punk with a handgun have the ability to end your career.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The way Glenn said it was condescending but I couldn’t disagree with his assessment. The absence of armor was a holdover from my old lack of resources and I hadn’t thought to change it. I had one concern, but I was sure something could be figured out. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How light can I make the armor?” I asked. “My power is limited by how fast I can get myself moving so I can’t be too weighed down. No point in armoring up if all it does is get me hit more.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It would only be a few extra pounds, nothing that would affect you in a meaningful way. Even Vista wears more armor than you have in your design so I’m sure you’ll manage,” Glenn told me.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I waited for Glenn to have another issue, but instead he surprised me.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So long as you do that the costume is fine,” he said.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I felt a moment of relief, but Glenn wasn’t done quite yet. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, your designs are more sensible than I would have expected from someone your age, I’m impressed. So I’ll let you explain your case, why ‘Precipice’? I have your file open and I don’t see the connection to your powers.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I couldn’t very well tell him it was sentimental so I figured I’d share my original reasons. They were lackluster, but at least I could actually explain them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The main reason isn’t really power related, it’s more personal. If you have my file I assume you’ve seen my background and what I’ve already told PRT staff. I chose Precipice because when I triggered it felt like every single thing I had ever done wrong was a step I took leading myself closer to a ledge and one more step would take me past the point of no return. I chose the name to remind myself how precarious my situation is—a constant reminder to be better.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“If you want to be surface level, my emotion power creates a similar feeling in other people. And with my mover power I am actually really suited to fighting in areas with ledges and large falls since I could just use the energy to shoot right back up, and I’m not likely to get hurt since I can stop all of my movement. But that isn’t really an important factor for the name.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Glenn was quiet for a moment as he took that in. I started rifling through my folder for the merch designs I had made just so I had something to do with my hands. Finally Glenn broke his silence.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Could you tell that to the public? Would you be willing to put something that personal out there?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That gave me some pause, but I wanted this so I knew the answer I had to give.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, I guess I could. I’d need to be asked about it directly, but I wouldn’t be unwilling to share that.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Besides, they may wind up not asking any questions. Names can take on their own meaning if you let them. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Then I will permit it,” he told me. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s better than half the names in your department anyways,” he added under his breath. “Speaking of—Malcolm, which name was it?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The man started when his name was called, but quickly reigned in his surprise before answering.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s Evince isn’t it?” Malcolm questioned back.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Glenn clapped his hands together as he spoke.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“There you are. It’s a perfect fit to the power, and it doesn't have any nonsense that you have to incorporate. None of this tacked on theming you were messing around with earlier.” Glenn returned his attention to me. “<em> Precipice </em> here is just about sorted so I will be able to help you wrap up the costume situation for Evince.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“One thing before you move on,” I said. “For merch and stuff like that, can I sell designs for you guys to use? I could use the money and I’ve kinda got a lot of stuff ready for it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Leave the designs with Malcolm. I'll have him send me some copies. He will get back to you if we want to use any of them. Ward designed merchandise typically goes over well with the public. If that’s all I will set you loose and have Armsmaster come get you so he can explain the Protectorate’s rules about tinkering to you,” Glenn said as I heard him typing over the video call.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Holy sh-” I stopped myself when I saw the change in Glenn’s expression. “Isn’t that kinda overkill?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re a Ward under his command, so no. The whole point of the Wards is to be mentored by more experienced heroes, and since Armsmaster is one of them it is explicitly his job to help you. Don’t be afraid to go to him for help or advice when necessary, especially since he is the only tinker on the ENE team. He is there to be a resource for your growth, so you would be wise to make use of that.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A sound played over the laptop's speaker and I could see Glenn’s eyes move as he read a message.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He is on his way up and will be here in a minute. He asked for you to meet him at the elevator,” Glenn told me. I knew a dismissal when I heard one, so I nodded and put my designs back into the folder before handing them off to Malcolm.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thank you for your time,” I said awkwardly. “And I guess I’ll catch up with you later, Evince.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gilpatrick hesitated a moment before he connected the dots with his new name and answered me.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ll come find you as soon as I’m all set here.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I threw him a thumbs up and headed into the hallway. I made it to the elevator doors just before they opened, and I got my first look at Armsmaster. I‘d never met him— Uncle Matt had said he was one of the people who died to Leviathan and the government was covering it up. A little bit out there, but I’d never heard of him after that so maybe he’d been right about that. Still, there was something familiar about him I couldn’t quite place. Maybe it was the armor?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Armsmaster, sir, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>I extended my hand which he accepted with a single firm shake.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Image told me you’re going by Precipice, good to meet you too. Now come on, let’s get down to the lab, I’m sure you have questions and I have a few of my own,” he said.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> His voice is familiar too. Have I met this guy? </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Cleave - 2.2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N: Sup everybody, it's ya boi. Been in quarantine the past few days and just got this wrapped up. I figured there was no point in keeping you waiting any longer, so here we are. In keeping with the ritual I'd like to thank the fine folks over on the cauldron discord server for their support and help during the editing process. This chapter's shout outs go to Juff and breakingamber, I always appreciate the help. And thank you to, well YOU! It's a open secret that writers are liches who gain power through having their works read and at this rate I'm bound to start having magic any day now. Short of a Kwanzahanamas miracle I'm liable to not update before the new year so I hope the holidays treat y'all well and I'll see you in 2021!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The elevator ride down to the lab was spent in an awkward silence. I probably could have broken the silence, but I didn’t have much to say yet. I wanted to wait until I had a read on Armsmaster. The feeling must have been mutual because he wasn’t speaking either.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The elevator opened and Armsmaster led me down the hall until we reached a reinforced door. There was a keypad next to it and Armsmaster’s hand flew across it, entering in a ridiculously long sequence that I couldn’t follow until the door slid into the walls with a mechanical whir. As we entered into the space he began laying out some ground rules.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I assume you know this, but I want to make sure I’m clear. Don’t touch anything unless I say it's alright, there are a lot of sensitive projects in here and handling something wrong could set them back weeks.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, sir,” I said as I took in the room. The walls were metal and concrete, with various screens and pegboards tightly packed full of tools scattered across their surface. There were at least a dozen different workbenches and most of them were covered with tech at various degrees of completion. In the back corner there was a ceiling mounted motorcycle lift. Normally I wouldn’t have been so certain of what the large hydraulic claw was for, but it currently had my bike held up in its grasp.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nice taste. Where’d you find it?” I said as I pointed at it. I wasn’t sure how he had gotten it since I had just got it back yesterday.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Armsmaster didn’t react much to my joke, just a momentary quirk of his lips.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The PRT picked it up this morning with your guardian,” he explained. “The director asked for me to look it over. She wanted another tinker to make sure this was safe to use.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He pointed towards the tactile pad that was dangling by a wire from the bike’s arm. I nodded my head.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Was it? I put it together in a little over an hour so I wasn’t super thorough checking it over. It was more important that it just worked in case I needed to fight, and once it was done I had to use it immediately.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about, it wasn’t. The electric work left something to be desired. You didn’t add a fuse where the arm drew in the power from the alternator. And if things got jostled around, the contact for that wire could have crossed here,”—he pointed at some exposed wiring, which now that I looked at it did seem quite dangerous—“where some of the insulation is missing on the powerline for the neural interface and completely bypassed your resistors. You could have partially lost use of your leg due to nerve damage. I’m not sure how long it would have lasted, but it's possible it could have been permanent.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That was a sobering thought. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I suppose that's what I get for tinkering with a bunch of scraps during a panic attack.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t skimp on safety features when you’re interfacing directly with your nervous system, you were playing with fire there. Fifteen volts doesn’t sound a lot, but when you shoot it straight into your neurons it doesn’t have to be for it to cause lasting harm,” Armsmaster scolded.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That gave me major deja vu. I wasn’t sure why, but getting called out for being careless by this guy was ringing a bell.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Figure that out later and quit spacing out in front of your new boss.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Understood. I was building under a strict time limit so I was sloppy, I won’t do that again if I can help it. I’ve actually had an idea for how to prevent that kind of issue, but I don’t know if I can make it work,” I said.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I could almost see the gears turning in Armsmaster’s head and he began to speak.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, in that case how about we make this an exercise for you. You tell me what your idea is and let’s try and get it to work. This can be a hands on demonstration of how the Protectorate will be supporting your work going forward.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Putting me on the spot, well I’d hate to disappoint. Lucky for me I’ve been sitting on this issue for almost two years.  </span>
  </em>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright. So I’ve been thinking that I should design a central tactile pad interface. If I can control my tech remotely and separate from their power sources I can build things that need a lot more power without the risk of frying myself.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Armsmaster hummed quietly to himself before walking to the corner of the workshop with the most monitors and gestured for me to follow. He pulled up an unfamiliar software and typed ‘HERO’ into the search bar. The screen was flooded with results.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“This is the Protectorate’s Tinker database. Every design that’s been approved since ‘97 is in here along with some older ones that were added to the database after the fact. When you build something it gets submitted to the PRT for testing with a writeup on how you built it, along with its schematics. If it passes muster the Protectorate buys your design from you and it gets added to the database so every other tinker has access to it. You follow?” he asked.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I nodded my head, dumbfounded. For the first time I really grasped what the others had meant about how much knowledge we had lost in Gold Morning. The thought of having access to the work of every Protectorate tinker before me seemed too good to be true. It almost felt like my power was buzzing with anticipation as ideas raced across my mind.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“How many?” was all I could say.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thousands. Some are really niche or require too great an understanding of the underlying principles for anyone but the tinker who made it to get them working, but there’s a lot of universally applicable tech in here that most tinkers could recreate,” Armsmaster told me. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“A good example of that is the reason I’m showing this to you.” He selected one of the results on the screen. “This is a design made by Hero. It’s a wireless relay with no noticeable delay for information it sends or receives up to a thousand feet; around there we start to find it takes one millisecond. The total range maxes out at around 10 miles if you get its construction just right.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I blinked. Even with my tinker power at its peak, like it was today, this was a problem I had expected to take multiple days of work for me to overcome. The Protectorate had a solution just lying around for anyone who needed it! I was starting to see why so many tinkers joined up. The possibilities this could open up for me were crazy. I couldn’t wait another second.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“When can we start?” I asked.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Armsmaster typed something into the computer console and pointed over to one of the few clear work benches as a section of its surface lit up.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You can start designing how you're going to integrate the relay, I’ll go get the materials we’ll need.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Armsmaster wasn’t much of a conversationalist, but he was a good teacher. As we worked on the relay he would quickly correct me if I was going to misplace anything in its construction and helped me get the full tactile interface to fit in a far more compact arrangement than I had originally designed. A couple hours later it was done. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t anything incredibly complex, just six tactile pads packed tightly together and interfaced into the relay inside a sleek gunmetal casing with a small power source. To make it feel like it was really mine I worked a couple of aesthetic cracks into its surface. When I wore it the whole thing would trail along my spine from the base of my neck down to my mid back just beneath my shoulder blades, and it was secured in place by a pair of metal prongs that arched over my shoulders. I handed the finished build to Armsmaster for a final check over, and once he was satisfied with my handiwork he gave it back to me.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s put this thing through its paces before submitting it for review,” he said. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>We removed the tactile pad from the bike's arm and wired a relay in its place. Armsmaster fired up the bike and turned to me.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Whenever you’re ready.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I put on the device and powered it on. I could hardly feel the electric jolt as the machine made its connections, which surprised me. My old designs had always made much harsher contact with me. I refocused and began to feel out for the arm. Once I could feel it I began to slowly move the arm around as I worked over every joint in its construction, putting each one through their full range of movement. I reached out and grabbed the throttle, then revved the engine a couple of times. It was amazing. Even though I was on the other side of the room it was responding like it was attached directly to me.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, this is awesome,” I said.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Good. I’d give it a couple of minutes of use before deciding it’s alright, so keep at it for a bit. I’ll get the paperwork set up for you to fill out. If everything goes smoothly the device should be cleared for the field in time for your debut,” Armsmaster told me.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A small smile was working its way across my face. My tinkering had never gone so smoothly before. Was this how working with tech had been for Cradle?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I walked over to the arm with a piece of paper on a clipboard and a pen. I tried experimenting with fine control by writing with the hand, but something distracted me. A tritone chime rang out over the room’s speakers then a woman spoke through them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Col—oh. Sorry am I interrupting?” she asked.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, Dragon. No, it’s fine I’m just giving Precipice a run down on tinkering safely, but he has it well in hand. What’s going on?” Armsmaster said, sounding more enthusiastic than he had this whole time. I was surprised by her presence. I supposed Armsmaster must be a pretty big deal if he worked on projects with the world's greatest tinker. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dragon launched into some talk about data they had been going over. I eavesdropped on their conversation as I continued testing the arm, and around a minute in it felt like a tactile pad had connected straight to my brain as I made the connection.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Dragon. A tinker with a polearm. They sound like they’re friends... Fuck me, he’s Defiant.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The timeline even lined up. I'd started hearing about Defiant around the same time Armsmaster had faded from the scene. I wasn’t clear on why he would change his identity, but it seemed that was what had happened. The longer I was back the more irritated I was by how little I had worried about actually figuring out how things had led up to Gold Morning. The constant blindspots were frustrating and probably avoidable if I had just asked around more. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>They say hindsight is 20/20, but apparently I need some fucking glasses. At least I know why he’s so familiar now. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Precipice? Are you just about done here? They want us to get our measurements taken for the costumes,” Gilpatrick called from the lab’s door. It seemed he had finally finished his own meeting.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I think so,” I said, as I wrapped up the last of the tests I had thought up. “The connection is working great. Armsmaster?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That pulled him from his conversation and he noticed Gilpatrick at the door. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, if you think it’s all set you can leave it here and I’ll make sure it gets submitted to testing. I can send you the forms you’ll need for the write up. If all goes well the device will get returned to your lab in a few days.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I latched onto the most exciting part of that statement with laser focus.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I get my own lab!?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It would be more accurate to say you are getting </span>
  <em>
    <span>a</span>
  </em>
  <span> lab. You’re going to be sharing with Kid Win, but you will have your own space in there,” Armsmaster said.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Just as good then,” I said.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I disconnected from my new creation and set it down on the workbench. Before leaving I walked over to Armsmaster.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you for working with me, sir. It was helpful,” I said. “Would we be able to work together in the future? I know you’re probably busy so it’s fine if you can’t, but I heard you use a bike too and I’m looking to upgrade mine so I can use it in the field. I figure you might have some tips and tricks I could learn.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It depends on how busy things will be, but I’ll see if I have any time. You’re easy to work with,” he told me.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Armsmaster’s words had a bit of an awkward tilt to them. The way he said them made me think he was going to say more, so I waited for him to finish until I realized that was all he had to say. After the awkward delay, I headed towards the door.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Evince</span>
  </em>
  <span>, let’s get rolling,” I said to Gilpatrick, putting the extra emphasis on his new name to help it stick in our heads after I had noticed his hesitation when we were with the suits. As we headed down the hallway a question struck me. “So what kind of look did they stick you with?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gilpatrick hummed smugly to himself.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll see along with everyone else. Why spoil the surprise for you?” he teased.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine, be that way,” I grumbled at him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“By the way, good work making sure Glenn didn’t know the real reason you chose your name,” he said with a light chuckle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>I looked at Gilpatrick, feeling a little confused.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you talking about?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t put it together until the meeting itself, but I’ve caught you. You’re really going to pretend </span>
  <em>
    <span>precipitation</span>
  </em>
  <span> is entirely unrelated to </span>
  <em>
    <span>Precipice</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You just wanted a Rain pun, don't lie to me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I groaned and closed my eyes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I-it can be both… I wasn’t bullshitting him with my answer. I just hadn’t thought of that angle in forever... Listen, it’s better than all the hand based names I had, the best one in there had been Handbrake and that was a suggestion I didn’t want to make.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gilpatrick just chuckled at my sputtering.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s fine, your secret is safe with me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After getting our measurements taken we had one appointment left this afternoon before we were turned loose—a meeting with the director and her deputy. That brought Gilpatrick and I into the heart of downtown, to the PRT Headquarters. The tower was hardly the tallest building on that stretch of Lord Street but it was imposing in its own way. The building looked to be around fifteen stories tall and gradually tapered in around halfway up, narrowing to about half the width of the base by the time it peaked. The entire exterior wall was made of the same dark glass that reflected its surroundings and the lower floors had a cage of metal hexagonal bars that coated its surface. The only mark that identified it was a large white sign bearing the PRT logo toward the top of the tower.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gilpatrick pulled the car onto a side street around to the back where a three floor parking garage was attached to the building. We passed through security, parked the car and headed inside.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“So Gil, when you were working for the PRT before this did you ever meet the director?” I asked as we walked deeper into the building. We followed a long hallway that snaked its way around the outer walls of the building, giving us glimpses of the outside through the bars.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Met would be a strong word for it. I’ve never spoken with her personally, but our departments would cooperate so it stands to reason that I may have done things on her orders occasionally as they got passed down the chain of command—Manchester answers to both Boston and Brockton Bay since the city is sandwiched between the two departments. Generally though, Brockton Bay has always done its own thing and Boston was more involved with us. I worked with Department 24 far more than I ever did with ENE so I think she tends to keep things in house,” Gilpatrick explained. As he wrapped up we entered the lobby.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>On our right, there was a gift shop filled with merchandise for the local heroes. Everything from posters to t-shirts were packed wall to wall with an unobstructed view of the goods through a large floor to ceiling window. And on our left, there were large portraits of the Wards lining the wall.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>So these are my new teammates then. Aegis, Gallant, Clockblocker, Vista, Kid Win, and Shadow Stalker. The only one I know much about is Vista, I wonder if they have files I can look at. Ha, my first thought is to check files. I guess Vic’s obsession is contagious.  </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>We made our way across the room towards the front desk, Gilpatrick taking the lead. There was an attendant sitting behind the desk who looked up at our approach.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Can I help you? The tour won’t be starting for another hour,” he asked.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No worries, we're not here for that. We’ve got a meeting,” Gilpatrick said.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Recognition flashed in the attendant’s eyes as he stood up from his chair.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, of course. Sorry for not realizing, you’re a little early. Follow me,” he said, as he beckoned us around the desk. We were led through a doorway behind the desk and down a hall into a room with a long table lined with chairs, not too different from the one our Image meeting had taken place in.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll let the Director know you’re here. She should be here in a moment. Feel free to take a seat.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The attendant then walked down the hall, leaving us to our own devices. I pulled out a chair and sagged into it. We sat there for a couple minutes and I fiddled with the buttons on my coat. Once the silence had stretched long enough I turned to face Gilpatrick.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You know I hope the actual cape stuff will be more exciting than this. Not that I enjoy fighting, but at least I’m not constantly putting on airs for complete strangers when I have to do it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It isn’t that bad. I’m sure it will get easier once we’re actually integrated into the teams,” he said. I thought that was a little too optimistic, but he knew more about being involved with the system than I did.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Still though, if I have to do all this formal ‘sir’ and ‘ma’am’ talk for much longer my tongue is gonna turn to ash. I get that I’ve got to be behaved with my background, but goddamn it’s draining. I’ve never been good at this stuff, I’m just waiting to see when I jam my foot in my mouth.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that so?” a new voice joined the conversation.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I just had to fucking say it, didn’t I?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I forced myself to turn towards the door and I could almost feel the pressure from the woman who was standing there. Her expression was carefully neutral, but her cold grey eyes were looking at me like she was trying to stare a hole through my head.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Director, it's good to meet you,” Gilpatrick said, trying to cut through the tension.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I guess I’ll let the adults talk for a minute, maybe she won’t focus on that too much.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The Director walked into the room and sat across from us and a tall man in a three piece suit followed behind her and sat to her right, I assumed he must be the deputy.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Agent Gilpatrick, I looked over your file before coming here. Joined the PRT in 1996 and you have held an exemplary track record through your career. Officially, you transferred to ENE in an administrative position after you sustained injuries in the field during an operation in Nashua. You received a glowing recommendation from your commanding officer.” It was hard to tell, but the Director looked almost amused with herself as she continued. “If Captain Jameson is to be believed, you gaining powers may be one of the best things to ever happen to my department. While I am pleased to have someone with proper training join our ranks, I’ll try to temper my expectations.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll do my best not to disappoint, ma’am,” Gilpatrick said, the picture of professionalism. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The Director’s focus then turned to me once again. Fortunately, she had dialed her stare back from laser beam to only mildly disconcerting. A moment passed without her saying anything and I realized she must be waiting for me to introduce myself.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m Rain Frazier”—I extended a hand across the table, leaning forward slightly, trying to get myself to the table’s halfway point—“ but I’m sure you know that. I actually haven’t been told your names yet.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The director accepted my handshake as she spoke.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Director Piggot will work fine. And the man next to me is Deputy Director Renick, outside of extenuating circumstances you will be seeing far more of him than myself.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I leaned back into my seat.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” I said. I was laying it on a little thick, but I needed to salvage my first impression. I was sure they already had their own expectations about me since I grew up in the Fallen—hell as far as they were concerned I was hardly a week out from it—and I couldn’t let my chance to properly introduce myself be wasted by an offhand gripe to Gilpatrick.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Tongue still in there?” the Deputy Director asked dryly. I cringed slightly at his comment.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Easy on the kid please,” Gilpatrick cut in. “His experience with authority has been defined by the Fallen. He’s acting with a lot of good faith by trusting us so give him some time to adjust to all of this. You’d be drained too if you were in his shoes.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A little harsh for a small joke in my opinion, but that would help me seem like less of a jackass so I was mostly just thankful that Gilpatrick was stepping up to bat for me.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course. Sorry, Rain, I didn’t mean anything by it,” Renick said. I just shrugged it off. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s fine, sir.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Director Piggot cleared her throat and we went quiet.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So in the interest of saving all of us some time I’ll get right to it. I will be having Deputy Director Renick get you equipped with your devices and clearances in our system. Your costumes will be arriving in three days and you are going to be debuting to the public on the 12th. You will be meeting with Image to coach you for the press conference on Friday. Any questions before I move on?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Just one. How flexible is time off? My parents found out I’m fostering Rain and they want to meet him. We are going to need Saint Patrick’s day and the day after off,” Gilpatrick said.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s fine. We are fairly flexible with your schedules so you can maintain your civilian identities, so long as there’s no emergencies going on a few days' notice is all we need,” Director Piggot told us.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She began to get up from her chair and exit the room.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I look forward to seeing good work from you. I pride myself on my department’s performance and I expect to continue doing so. Renick should be able to help you with anything else.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you for your time, ma’am,” I said as she left.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well then, let’s get you two geared up shall we,” Renick said and he led us from the room.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>In the end Gilpatrick and I left the HQ with cell phones and laptops for us to handle all our Protectorate business on. We also had to submit retinal scans, our full hand prints, and voice samples. Renick explained how to use the Protectorate resources that were given access to and let us know where we should report in tomorrow. Lastly, before we left we were given this week's Master-Stranger password and given the rundown on how it worked, I was the only one who had needed that explanation.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As we drove away I leaned my head against the window and just let the city roll by me. The sun was still out and would be for a little over an hour before night set in. I decided to push through my tiredness to get some work done.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey Gil, think we could go pick over the dump? I need to get some supplies, but I don’t want to break our bank. I won’t take too long with it, maybe an hour? I’ve got to build a couple of projects before next week, but I shouldn’t have to find too many things.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah that’s fine. It’s not too far from the house anyways. I’ll hold you to the time frame though, dinner is sounding real good right about now.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The ride to the dump was fairly short and after a brief talk with the guy manning the gate I got to sift through the stones the city rejected—my bread and butter. The dump was large, which made sense considering the city’s size, but luckily their policies meant that they actually sorted through things. That left me with the fairly easy job of looking through the electronics citizens left to have ‘recycled’. We managed to find most of what I needed: a couple of broken video cameras, a handful of motors out of old vacuums and appliances, a bunch of scrap metal. I even managed to find a couple of old computers and a single smartphone with an intact screen. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gilpatrick helped me load everything into the trunk and once we were sure nobody was around I cut the metal down to manageable sizes we could actually fit. Once all was said and done we had just managed it before the sun set.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As we drove back towards the house Gilpatrick had a look of focus on his face, his brow was creased and his lips were pressed tightly together. After a couple minutes of that he finally spoke.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright I give up, what are you going to build? I’ve been trying to figure it out, but clearly I’m not much of a tinker so demystify this for me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was only then it hit me that I hadn’t actually told him my plans for the builds. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>God, he really is patient with me isn’t he?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh shit sorry, I spaced it. I need to build myself some armor, a weapon, and something for recon,” I told him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What sort of weapon are we talking about here?” Gilpatrick asked with a bit of trepidation in his voice. “Keep in mind that just because we are trying to keep things on the down low doesn’t mean we can throw the rules of engagement out of the window, If you get caught we really don’t want you to be mistaken for a villain. And whatever you build for this is essentially a burned concept, we can’t have you making something similar enough that the PRT can put the pieces together.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I was thinking similarly. Currently the idea I’m working with is that I should try and build a motorized whip that I can control like my arms. I don’t want to go too far from what I know, but anything that could be considered a limb is out. Whatever I go in there with is going to have to serve as my main method of attacking since my blades are too identifiable. It’s gonna have to be almost all gear and my master power,” I admitted. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I didn’t like the idea since it essentially was me going into a four on one fight with an arm tied behind my back, but it was necessary to not blow my cover. The only reason I hadn’t written off the plan was the fact that I didn’t actually have to win in a straight up fight against them. The mission was to establish contact with Tattletale and get the answers I needed, it just happened that the odds of her actually being helpful on her own were abysmal so I would be an idiot not to plan accordingly. Worst case, I would need to try and separate her from the rest of the Undersiders or trace them back to wherever they retreated to and try again. When I thought about it like that the back of my mind only had one thought.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>But that would cost us time.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s not worry about it for now, we have a week and a half to prepare and we’ve taken care of a lot today,” I said, trying to push the thoughts from my mind.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s fine by me. I’m glad you’re pacing yourself, I was a little worried about that if I’m being honest,” Gilpatrick said.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You were?” I asked, confused about where this could have come from.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Rain, before I get into this I want it to be clear—I respect you and I know the situation was pretty intense—but you didn’t seem to be taking things all that well before I came back. Hell, I know we haven’t been talking about it, but the night you brought me back you had a full on nervous breakdown. And after we sorted out the immediate future you started planning for what you viewed as the next obstacle in front of you with the costume stuff. I suspected that was a distraction from whatever is actually worrying you and it was mostly harmless so I didn’t say anything, but I didn’t want to see you run yourself ragged.”  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I shifted uncomfortably in my seat as he spoke. I wanted to refute what he was saying and tell him he was worrying over nothing, but I couldn’t. Today I wasn’t even stopping out of any good habits, I was just petrified by the idea that a fuck up now could make everything come apart at the seams later and I was too tired to ensure I wouldn’t botch things right now. The pressure to get things right was so damn strong it was almost suffocating whenever I let myself slow down enough to remember it was there. My friends were out there waiting for me, they didn’t know what sort of awful shit was waiting for us. I needed them to be ready and the only way to ensure that was to not waste a moment in preparing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>We sat in silence for a while as we made the last of the trip to the house. Gilpatrick parked the car into the garage and stepped out of the car. When I didn’t move to get out he stopped short and leaned down to look directly inside the cab.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I… Gil, I’m going to ask that you continue to keep an eye on me. Things are, well, a lot right now. I’m not good at playing the waiting game and having all this shit be uncertain and up in the air. Until we get the information from Tattletale it’s going to be easy for me to get stressed out by all this,” I admitted. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>If it hadn’t been for all the time in group therapy I probably wouldn’t have been able to put that into words, let alone say it out loud. I owed a lot of things to those times. Gilpatrick eased himself back down into his seat so he could look me in the eyes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll do that then. Kid, you know you can talk to me about this stuff right?” I didn't know how to respond so I kept quiet, and after a moment he continued to talk. “It’s not wrong to be worried, but you can’t let it run your life. You’re looking at this on the scale of days, but we have over two years to tackle. We have to take our time and not burn out because if we don’t do that then nobody will be there to help. And even if that were to happen we need to remember that people got through things without us the first time. It wasn’t pleasant for anyone, but they survived. So at the end of the day we aren’t necessary, we’re just an edge they didn’t have before. There’s a lot of bridges we’re going to have to cross, but let's save them for when we get there, alright?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I nodded and took a steadying breath.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, alright,” I sighed out.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s the spirit,” Gilpatrick said as he got out of the car again. “Let’s get inside and have dinner. Once we wrap that I’m declaring mandatory fun time.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I blinked up at him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mandatory what now?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gilpatrick grabbed our bags out of the back seat and gestured for me to get out of the car.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yep, it’s about time I fixed this anyways. You’ve been deprived of Star Wars by the Fallen and I’m not letting it stand any longer: It’s movie night. I called the pizza place down the road when you were cutting up the metal, they’ll be here any minute so hustle.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He turned and headed into the house. I followed not long after.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I sat down at the dining room table that was mostly covered by the long leaves of our largest spider plant, then reached into my school bag and absently started filling out my homework. I wasn’t putting much effort into it, but I figured setting low expectations would mean I was less likely to be grilled on my performance in class. Since I was going to do cape work for a career school didn’t seem all that important to me, especially since this was round two. History was neat though. I’d always liked hearing about ancient civilizations, so at least the unit on Rome was going to keep my interest.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe I could visit Europe if it doesn't get destroyed this time. The Colosseum could be cool to see.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A few minutes later Gilpatrick came back with a huge white box that smelled like heaven. He set the pizza on the counter since there was no way it could coexist with all the other stuff at the table.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright. Dinner is served. You finish up your homework. I’m going to set up the DVD player,” Gilpatrick said before tearing into a slice.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As I sat there it felt like something had uncoiled in my chest. After all the insanity of coming back in time it was almost startling how much a little bit of normal domestic life was hitting me. I knew the movie night was pretty much solely for my benefit, with Gilpatrick catering to my main hobby, but that made it even more important to me. It was a nice reminder that even though most of my friends were out of my reach that didn’t mean I was without any either.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I finished up my work and piled a plate with slices of pizza before heading out into the living room.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Gil’s right, it isn’t wrong to rest a bit. I can get back to work tomorrow.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Cleave - 2.3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Writing this chapter took a little longer than I'd planned for it to. There were a couple rough patches in the writing process, but the end result is my longest chapter to date so I hope you'll forgive the delay. As with all my chapters I'd like to take a moment to thank the Cauldron discord for their support, and thank Juff for his help in the editing process. And of course I wouldn't dare to forget thanking YOU the readers, your support and engagement with this story always makes it worth writing and it is most appreciated.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I took one last look at my phone as I tried to commit the information from the files to memory before I was face to face with my new team. The elevator doors opened in front of me, revealing a long hallway with walls made of shining metal. The rubber sole of my boots slapped against the floor as I made my way down the hall, filling the corridor with the sound. There was a terminal built into the wall with something that looked like futuristic binoculars protruding from it. I stopped to put my phone away so it wasn’t obvious that I was reading their records before leaning forward and staring into the scanner. There was a brief flash of light then I heard a slight whir on my left as the door retracted into the walls.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> This is it. Game on, don’t fuck up. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I stepped into the Wards HQ and took in my surroundings. My first impression was that the room was big, about twice the size of the building's main lobby. The ceiling was a vaulted dome that reminded me of a cathedral, and it was about the right size to fit in one. The main floor space was divided up into two sections with one half made up of small rooms and the other was an open floorplan with a large computer console in the corner.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When I looked across the room to the wall opposite to the elevator there was a pair of hallways that exited the room. Even with all that to take in, there was one thing that stuck out to me the most.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> I hyped myself up for an empty room. Fucking classic. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I let out a small laugh at my own expense, before deciding not to let the moment go to waste, and started to get the lay of the land. I walked straight across the room and wandered down the hallway that looked the longest.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I paused to look into each room I passed and noted what I found. The first was filled with filing cabinets and a bookshelf lined with thick binders labeled by month and year, going back to the early 2000s. The second was just an oversized storage room by the looks of it. Eventually the hallway ended in a set of double doors; I pushed through them and found a room roughly the size of a school gym. I supposed the comparison was accurate since half of the room was filled with exercise equipment and the other was a large space with mats covering the floor and walls.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I made my way back toward the main room, planning to check the next hallway, but as I got closer I heard a pair of voices. I picked up my pace and tried to listen in as I got closer.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“-day when the new guy is supposed to show up? Aegis brought it up a few days ago, but nobody has said anything about it since,” I heard a boy’s voice say. He sounded close to my age. Kid Win?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t know Kid—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Ha! Knew it! </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“—recruiting has always been hard to predict. It just happens when it happens,” the second voice said.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Even if she was five years younger I recognized her voice instantly. I had to clamp down on a small smile as I walked in to see Vista again. After entering the room I got a first look at my new teammates.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Both of them were out of uniform; Vista was wearing a navy sweater and jeans and Kid Win was wearing a t-shirt with some chemical diagram I didn’t recognize on it. Once again I was struck by how much smaller they were. Vista had never been very tall, but she was still at least half a foot shorter than when I’d met her. And Kid Win must have had a big growth spurt too—or the resurrection changed his height—because he was barely taller than I was now and he had been over six feet tall. There were other differences I’d expected to see, like his eyes now being flesh and blood as opposed to the crimson mechanical ones I’d noticed he had, but I was caught off guard by his hair. It was brown when I could have sworn it was blond. That being said, I had only seen him in passing a couple times before Vista’s birthday party and I’d been drunk for a lot of that so I easily could have been misremembering. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah that sounds about right,” I said as I walked into the room. Before I had finished talking Vista had stretched the room out between us, making it into a miniature canyon.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You know how to make a guy feel welcome!” I called across the gap. I briefly waited for a response, but I received none so I tried again. “Do I have to shout the code phrase too or will you put away the trench!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Vista narrowed the gap between us, but didn’t remove it completely.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Alright then, this week’s code?” she demanded.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Abrams four-nine-two,” I answered, suddenly very glad that Renick had made sure to drill its importance into me.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Vista finally put the space back where it was originally, placing me just a few feet away from them. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So, uh, sorry they didn’t tell you guys I was gonna be here. I figured the higher ups would have at least sent a message to you or something,” I said as I gave them an awkward grin. Vista looked a little chagrined at her actions, but I didn’t blame her, those were good instincts. “Oh shit, where are my manners? Nice to meet ya, I’m going by Precipice in the field, but feel free to call me Rain.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I gave a small wave as I introduced myself.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kid Win approached me and extended his hand.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nice to meet you too, I’m Chris.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>I shook his hand and pointedly ignored the comparisons I was subconsciously making with another Chris I knew.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I turned and found that Vista had sat herself in one of the chairs by the computer. She spun it around to face Kid Win and I.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“My name’s Missy. So, <em> Rain </em>? Like—” she said.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> I swear to god if people keep doing this. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I cut her off early.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yup, like the water from the sky. Please save your breath, I have heard <em> every </em> joke there is for it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Vista deigned to take pity on me and put her hands up in mock surrender with a small smile on her face.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I notice it’s just us here, but the portraits in the lobby have me thinking we’re a few Wards short. How long until the others show up?” I asked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Maybe five minutes. Our classes get out before theirs do so we tend to get here first,” Kid Win explained.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I nodded along.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Okay, makes sense. So, Chris, if I’m guessing right you and I are tinker buddies now, yeah?” I asked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A brief look of surprise rolled across his face before he schooled his expression to the more neutral one he’d been making before, but I could tell it was strained.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, you’re a tinker too?” he asked. I picked up on a twinge of something in his tone. Nervousness maybe?  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, I make prosthetics that can link up with the nervous system. There's also a slight focus on hand to hand weapons in there, but I doubt I’ll get much use out of it,” I told him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Vista giggled quietly to herself and I glanced over, an eyebrow raised. She waved a hand in the air as though to brush the matter away.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The prosthetics tinker makes <em> hand to hand </em> weapons. I just found it a little funny, carry on don’t mind me,” she said.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Somebody is in a good mood today. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Glad to amuse,” I said deadpan as I settled into one of the other seats by the computer. I slid my backpack off my shoulders and set it on the ground and returned my attention to Kid Win. “So what about you? Any particular focus?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kid Win shifted awkwardly once I asked, his poker face momentarily falling out of place again. I was starting to suspect it was a sore spot for him somehow.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The PRT says that I’m good with guns and antigrav tech,” he told me after a moment. It sounded to me like something was being left unsaid, but I couldn’t put a pin on what it was he was leaving out. I went with my gut and let that lie; if he’d wanted to share he would have.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Antigrav? That sounds awesome. Build anything cool with it?” I asked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That had him perk up a bit.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“My hoverboard. It’s probably my favorite piece of gear right now. It’s self balancing and I can set the speed and altitude with my feet as I ride it. It’s a game changer for patrols, I can cover more ground and honestly it makes it fun to go out there.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I thought about my own acceleration problem.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How fast can it go?” I asked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You wanna find out for yourself? I could let you take it for a spin. It’s up in my workshop, or I guess it’s our workshop now.”<br/><br/></p>
<p>Before I could accept his offer the door opened up. A quick headcount revealed that everyone else had arrived so I spun my chair to face the rest of the team. Clockblocker was easily recognizable by his red hair, but the others were strangers to me.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>First inside was a tall hispanic guy; he wore his hair long and had a puffy winter coat on. The next through the door was who I assumed was Shadow Stalker, an athletic black girl with her long hair tied up into a ponytail. She looked only a few years older than I was now, her expression reminding me of Ashley on the occasions when she had been in a mood and was feeling especially haughty. And lastly, there was a blond guy in clothes that immediately made me certain he came from money. The jacket and shoes in particular looked high quality and had no branding on them. Doug, one of the older Fallen boys, had taught me that stuff like that was how you picked a rich guy out of a crowd, and I’d never really dropped the habit. I’d have bet everything I had that he was Gallant. Which by process of elimination meant the first guy must have been Aegis.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I felt a small rush of embarrassment when I realized I’d been staring at them instead of answering Chris.<br/><br/></p>
<p>“That would be cool, but I should probably get acquainted first,” I said and then I raised my voice. “Heya, I’m Precipice and I’m gonna be working with you guys going forward... So I debut on Saturday. How long after that until can I start helping us take the fight to the gangs? I know I’m new, but I’ve seen more gang tags in the past three days than I have my entire life. We're going to deal with this, right? There has to be some sort of plan at work already?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That garnered a variety of reactions across the room making it clear I had stumbled face first into something of a landmine issue. There was the bitterness from Vista and Shadow Stalker, the annoyance from Clockblocker. Gallant looked like he was about to step in and say something, but Aegis beat him to it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That is above our paygrade. Handling stuff like that is more the Protectorate’s department. We run regular patrols and keep the streets safe or work alongside one of the senior heroes. We aren’t the group they send out to deal with a gang hideout.” His words had a certain cadence to them, like he had been coached on giving that exact sort of answer in the past. “Besides, you're being a little hasty. You’re untrained and half the villains in this city have brute ratings, you don’t have the kind of skills or firepower for that yet.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>I wasn’t sure which part of that statement upset me more, finding out that the Wards didn’t operate how I was used to or the idea that Aegis assumed I wouldn’t be able to handle being in the field. I understood that from his perspective Aegis was completely in the right to assume that I was green, but if these guys were going to be the team I was working with I wanted to be taken seriously and I didn’t have the time to rework their opinions gradually. That left me with the fast approach.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I set my jaw and glared up at Aegis.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t, huh? Then prove it,” I challenged.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What?” Aegis said. His voice was caught between surprise and humor, but his brow furrowed. I immediately doubled down.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I said prove it. If I don’t have the skills we can find out pretty easily, you have a brute power don’t you? No need for us to waste any time, I saw that the gym has a good space for this. So, how about you put your money where your mouth is and spar with me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Off to the side I noticed Shadow Stalker looking at me with an appraising look in her eyes, but out of everyone it was Clockblocker who spoke.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are you for real? We’re a team, not a prison gang. You don’t just walk in and pick a fight with the biggest guy here because you think it will score you points.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He had me fucking pegged on that count, but I wasn’t about to back down.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“People don’t actually do that, you know,” I told him, thinking back to my own stint in jail. “And this isn’t about your opinions of me, it’s about my capabilities. Aegis is our team leader, so I’ll follow his orders in the field without question, but right now I think he’s got the wrong idea about me and I want to set it straight. So, Aegis, let’s get in the ring. If you win I’ll drop it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Aegis took a moment to think before answering me.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“There’s no harm in it I guess, we have to start training him eventually so we may as well start now. Just give me a couple minutes to get ready.”</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Maybe this wasn’t my best idea. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Standing twenty feet across the mat from me, Aegis—who had taken the intervening minutes to introduce himself as Carlos—was running through some stretches in preparation for kicking my ass. He was almost a full foot taller than me and without the jacket in the way I could tell this guy hit the gym a lot. I’d figured that was the case going into this, but seeing it in front of me as I geared up to fight certainly felt different.<br/><br/>There was some time before the patrols were scheduled and the others Wards had deemed watching the spar a good way to pass time. They were strewn across the gym, sitting on machines or leaning at the walls, and I thought I saw a small flash of green in Clockblocker’s hand as he spoke to Shadow Stalker. Pulling my attention from our small crowd I focused on the man in front of me and tried to get myself into the right headspace. Once it looked like Aegis had finished warming up he called over to me.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re certain you want to do this?” he asked, offering me an out from our fight.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So what are the ground rules?” I asked instead of folding.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gallant answered as he walked out onto the mat to stand between us.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t use more force than you’d be permitted to use against a villain. And the match is over when either someone taps out or I call the match, clear?” he asked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Crystal,” I said as I locked eyes with Aegis.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Understood,” Aegis replied. “Let’s have a good fight alright? No hard feelings afterwards?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Of course.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> With that out of the way Gallant nodded his head and walked back off of the mat.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Go!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Aegis immediately launched into action. He flew right towards me with an arm extended, I ran forward as though I was going to meet him. Once he was a few feet away I jumped and extended my legs like I was going to try and dropkick him. He went to grab my leg and I shifted my momentum toward the floor, and my body dropped underneath his as the grab missed me completely. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>I changed my movement again just before I hit the floor and sent myself flying straight up with a fist aimed towards his stomach. The hit connected and I heard a small grunt from Aegis as he let his body move with the punch, spinning along with it to soften the blow. I let myself keep moving towards the ceiling before cutting out the momentum, then, leaning forward and freezing once I was upright, I turned my head to get my eyes back on him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I knew this wasn’t the sort of fight I could win directly. If Aegis got a couple good hits in, I was done. But I had a plan to win this. When I read his file it said that his strength wasn’t supernatural, instead his brute power was his body's ability to adapt paired with a slow working healing factor. Aegis was strong, but only because he forced his body to fire on all cylinders. Every use of strength would weaken him as the fight went on, so if I wanted to win this my best bet was to make him draw out his strength and miss repeatedly until he was at a level I could engage with.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I regained a visual on Aegis just in time to drop out of the way of another grab as he flew over me. My power had hit its limit so instead of catching myself I dropped ten feet down before landing onto the floor with a clumsy roll. Without any time to maneuver further Aegis dive bombed into me. One hand gripped my left side by the upper arm, and the other missed, but grabbed my side instead. There was a squeal from the mat as my feet lost traction and Aegis pushed, launching the two of us toward the wall. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Shit! Shit! Shit!” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The words left my mouth without a thought. I threw my free arm forward into a jab aimed towards his eyes. Two punches in Aegis wasn’t slowing down. Rather than get slammed into the wall I grabbed Aegis’ wrist where he was clenching my arm and braced myself. I used my mover power to redirect myself to the left, pivoting with Aegis’ grip on my arm, and my side painfully slipped from his grasp. I set my legs onto his side and pulled before freezing myself in place. Aegis’ momentum worked against him and I heard a sickening pop come from his wrist as it strained against my grip, filling my hand with pain. It was the same trick I used to stand against a tide of a flood once—It had hurt like a bitch then too.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I let him go as my power dropped, but he didn’t do the same. Aegis kept his grip on my arm and clumsily tossed me forward despite his dislocated wrist. I tumbled through the air and wasn’t able to stop myself before I felt my back make contact with the padded wall. Unfortunately, the padding did little to lessen the impact and I felt the air exit my lungs in a wheeze as I slid to the floor.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I layered guilt across the battlefield, hoping that Aegis would hesitate as I struggled to catch my breath. I forced myself back to my feet, leaning heavily against the wall. There was little doubt I was looking a bit pathetic. I could feel the guilt take hold as Aegis looked at me with concern. He was still advancing but the aggression was gone.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Dean, call the fight! For fuck’s sake look at him!” I heard Clockblocker exclaim.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Must have spread it farther than I meant to. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gritting my teeth, I sucked in a breath of air. I clenched my hands into fists and let go of my pride. I needed this win. Once Aegis was close enough I punched him below the belt. His file said that his pain tolerance was well above the average, citing the time Hookwolf had torn his arm off in a fight and he kept going. It was desperate, but I needed something to capitalize on. Aegis was completely unfazed and promptly threw a punch. I narrowly dodged it and tried to hit him in the eye instead. The hit connected, but unfortunately for me it wasn’t the only one.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>My vision blurred and I hit the ground. I was dazed for a moment and when I rolled onto my side Gallant was kneeling next to me. The ringing in my ears gradually faded and I looked up at him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Jesus Christ,” I moaned as I came to my senses.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Not quite,” he replied. “How are you feeling?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Me? Just dandy, you should see the other guy,” I said trying to play off the sting of the loss. Easing myself into an upright position, I rested my back against the wall. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Vista, could you grab a flashlight for me?” Gallant called over his shoulder.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You held back.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I turned my head toward where Aegis was also leaning against the wall.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sorry to disappoint, but I was actually giving my all.” I was trying to not sound bitter, but I wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s not what I meant. The director had me read your file once she told me you were joining us, I know your powers. You didn’t use your blades at all.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I shrugged.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Gallant said not to use excessive force. I’m pretty sure maiming you falls under that. What was I gonna use them for? Collateral damage?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Gallant gently turned my head to face forward and waved a small flashlight in my face.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Pupils are responding normally so I doubt you have a concussion, but that hit is probably going to bruise,” he said in a quick clinical tone. “That was a good use of your powers out there. A little clumsy, but you did better than I would have expected from someone so new. You used that emotional field with great timing. I think I could help you with using it—in fact, not just me. I know someone whose power is even more similar to yours than mine is. Maybe I could introduce you two. Get you a few tips and tricks.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That had me perk up a bit.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Could he mean Victoria? It must be, right? There's only so many capes with emotion affecting powers in the city. Who else could he be talking about? </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That would be nice, thank you.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>My voice was flat even though I hadn’t meant for it to come out like that.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Way to sound genuine, stop fucking sulking. This just in! I still can’t win a straight up fight, it’s not a surprise is it? </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Despite my own thoughts, I had to admit that it was. I’d seen serious conflict during my limited caping career. When shit hit the fan I’d fought side by side with guys in the big leagues, capes like Chevalier and Narwhal. The idea that I couldn’t take on a junior hero in a friendly bout like this was disheartening. It felt like I was only effective in combat if I was disarming someone or killing them, with no in-between. If I couldn’t take Aegis how the <em> fuck </em> could I handle the Undersiders next week without having the same problem, but before I worried about that it was time for me to eat crow.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well… that settled that I suppose. Guess I bit off more than I could chew there. Thanks for the spar, Aegis.” I’d finally managed to get my voice back under control and stop sounding like such a sore loser.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Precipice, you didn’t do a bad job there. You couldn’t put me down with raw force, so you fought smart instead. Overall, you did better than I’d expected. I think that with a bit of polish we might be able to swing you patrolling with one of us as soon as you debut.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I figured he probably meant it, even if it did feel patronizing as fuck. I’d let my mouth write a check I couldn’t cash, nothing else to it. I’d had my ass handed to me enough times that I should have known better than to take it to heart, but I couldn’t help but feel bitter about losing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, looking forward to it,” I said with all the good grace I could muster. Someone moved in the corner of my vision.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Here, take this,” Vista said, extending something toward me.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was an ice pack. I took it and started icing my temple.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thanks, Missy. So in your impartial opinion, how'd I do?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, he thrashed you, no two ways about it, but that goes to show you there's a reason most of us don't get in fist fights with guys who could bench press a car,” she answered.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>I couldn’t find the right response to that so I shrugged instead. Vista helped me back onto my feet. Once she and Gallant were certain I wasn’t going to fall on my face the minute I was unsupervised they let me go free and headed out onto their patrol. I decided I’d rather be productive than sulk so I set about looking for Kid Win. I found him back in the main room where he was talking with Clockblocker and called over to him as I grabbed my backpack off of the ground where I’d left it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey, is that invite to the lab still on the table?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kid Win turned to face me and I walked over to the two of them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, sure. I kinda figured you’d want to take a couple minutes after… that,” he narrowly avoided trailing off.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’d rather take my mind off of it,” I admitted.  “And seeing a hoverboard in action should do that pretty well. Besides I think I’d better get to tinkering sooner than later. If the fight is fresh in my head I might get some ideas from it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“If I might make a recommendation,” Clockblocker cut in dryly. “A helmet wouldn’t be a bad place to start. Aegis just rang you like a bell and if you’re gonna make a habit of sparring with him you should do something about that.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ll keep it in mind,” I drawled back. I returned my attention to Kid Win. “Whenever you’re ready.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sure, come on. We’ve got to use the elevator to get up there,” he said as he began to lead the way. We walked down the long metal hallway I entered through and returned to the elevator. Once we were inside Kid Win called out our destination.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sub-level 5.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>We exited into a hallway that was a little shorter in length than the one that led to the main HQ. There were doors interspersed along the walls and Kid Win stopped us about halfway down the hall and began typing into a keypad next to the doorway. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>We stepped into the room as the lights turned on, revealing a scene not dissimilar to the one I had seen in Armsmaster’s workshop. The main difference was in how filled the room was. Where Armsmaster had crammed his space to the gills with projects, Kid Win had maybe a quarter of the room in active use, while the rest of the workbenches remained clear. I placed my things onto the empty bench nearest to the door.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> If he’s comparing things here to Armsmaster’s lab maybe that’s why he’s so touchy about tinkering? Not my business yet. Talk to the guy. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So I hate to prove Clockblocker right, but for the love of god do we have a helmet around here? If I ride that hoverboard and give myself a concussion I have a hunch I’d never hear the end of it from him.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kid Win laughed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, you’re probably right about that. Try this on,” he said as he picked up a red and gold helmet and tossed it to me. I set it onto my head and the inside shifted until it clung tightly to my head. Kid Win walked over to a rack and took the hoverboard down from it, then tapped its surface, and the bottom began emitting a dull glow. He let it go and it hung suspended in the air before he slid it across the room to me like an old timey bartender would sling a drink.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I caught it and looked at him expectantly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So how do I work this bad boy?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Let’s get you into the hallway first, it's better to have a long open stretch for your first ride.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>We went back out into the hallway and he gestured for me to get up onto the hoverboard. I took a shaky step up onto it and froze my position so my other leg could get a firmer placement before dropping my power. Once I was settled onto the board, I turned back to Kid Win.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Let’s do this,” I said as excitement began to take hold.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>An hour later I’d just barely got the hang of it before bowing out. I asked Kid Win to show me what a pro looked like and he happily obliged, showcasing the upper limits of what the board was able to do in the limited space we had. He was wrapping up said display by flying down the hall in a spiraling maneuver that traced all the hallway’s walls before coming to a sharp stop in front of me.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ll admit it, I’m impressed,” I told him, and I meant it too. He smiled widely at that.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m sure it’ll be my turn to be impressed soon enough,” he answered.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His expression turned thoughtful for a moment and he sat down on the hoverboard, letting his legs dangle above the ground.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey, I’m gonna tell you something but I need you to keep it to yourself, alright?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He’d caught me by surprise with his sudden shift in tone, but I nodded all the same.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Alright, I can do that.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The hoverboard”—he patted the deck with his hand—“I built it because I hated how everyone on the team was faster than me. Even the guys whose powers didn’t play into that. So I sat up here for two and a half weeks tinkering away until I finished the hoverboard. Now if I have it with me I can keep pace with anyone on the team. Well, except Vista, but she cheats anyways.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He paused for a second, collecting his thoughts before continuing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What I’m trying to get at is that <em> we </em> are tinkers. Unlike everyone else we aren't going to be the best at something right away, but there’s something we have that they don’t—we can build ourselves up. I wanted to keep up with everyone so I built this. Rain, I get that it’s frustrating to start behind the curve, but if you want to be able to directly fight people in Aegis’ weight class I think the only thing you need is some time and hard work in there”—he pointed behind me to the door of the workshop—“until you’ve built everything you need to help you do that.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Either Kid Win was one of the most intuitive people I’d ever met or this was an issue that he had also been dealing with for a while too. Even though our situations were different, the core of what he was telling me was true on multiple fronts, including one that I’d been trying not to think about. The Undersiders weren’t unbeatable, I just had to create the right battlefield. I’d need to tinker like a madman to make up for my lack of time, but if I built the right gear I could stand a chance. After all, my main goal wasn’t beating the Undersiders in an all-out brawl; it was to get access to Tattletale and separate her from the group. If I played my cards right they wouldn’t even know I was there until it was too late.</p>
<p><br/><em> This is how a tinker </em> <b> <em>should</em> </b> <em> think, huh. </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>It wasn’t at all how I usually approached things, but having a different mindset might be the thing that got me through this in one piece. Kid Win thought like a tinker and I didn’t. Until recently I’d never experienced having a complete tinker power, so I had to operate differently. But that had changed. I was walking around with the powers of my entire cluster, and I had to start changing how I thought about my abilities. This could be a good first step.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Build what you need to be, huh? Thanks, Chris. Seriously, I think I needed to hear that.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I turned around to face the door.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ve got no time to waste then.”</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Come Friday morning, after days and nights of tinkering my efforts were finally starting to bear fruit. During the days, every spare moment I could find I’d worked on rebuilding my hero gear as I’d had it during my career, with a few upgrades. And spare moments were all too common. After the shitshow I’d pulled day one the other Wards—with the exceptions of Carlos in the gym and Chris in the lab—had been keeping their distance and for now I was content to let them. It was easier to not worry about it too much and focus on my own efforts instead. I didn’t need to waste time trying to make friends, I had enough of my own already and they were better served by me working to keep them safe.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I was lucky that I was able to work at a blistering pace due to knowing how to build everything already, and putting that together with my improved tinkering meant it hadn’t taken me very long at all to get back the basics of my kit. My mask and arms were finished so now I was waiting on approval for their use in the field, but I was fairly certain I’d have it in time to be geared up for my debut. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>During the nights I was putting together my equipment for the casino. I’d built some body armor and I’d finished a rough metal mask with a simple version of the device I’d built with Armsmaster integrated into it. This one was only able to manage two connections at once, but I’d be taking less gear so that was fine by me. The other devices weren't done yet, but soon I would have something kind of like a taser, which was inspired by Chastity’s power. As long as it was in contact it would override someone’s control of their body by blocking the signals their nerves sent, leaving them limp like a ragdoll.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>In addition to that I was building a small hand-sized mech to hook a camera into so I could get a visual on the casino before I went in. I knew Grue could counter me, but since the other Undersiders needed to see so he couldn’t cover the whole place for the entire duration of the robbery. I only needed a small window with his power lowered for me to strike.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The last thing I was building was the whip I’d talked about with Gilpatrick. Its construction was largely the same as I’d initially planned, but its purpose had changed. Before I was going to use it for offense, but now it was going to serve as what got me moving once I had Tattletale in tow.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It would be a few days before I finished, but I was feeling confident in my ability to get them all done in time. An eraser bounced off of my forehead, snapping me out of my thoughts. I raised my head up from my hand where it had been propped up and I slowly turned to face my assailant.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“See, he’s alive, just barely,” Aisha teased across the lunch table.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That brought me to my current predicament—spending all my free time tinkering was starting to take a toll and people were noticing. Gilpatrick had been on my case right out of the gate, but the time sensitivity of the build had been enough for him to let me work so long as I could make it through the day. If I got much worse I was worried he might decide it wasn’t worth it and make me take a break that we couldn’t afford right now. After letting her comment hang for a moment, I finally answered Aisha.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re mistaken. The soul left my body twenty minutes back. Can my corpse take a message?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, sure. Can the message ask what the fuck is going on with you? We made a bet while you were dying over there and if I’m right Kayla has to fork over ten bucks.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I looked over at the two of them and there was enough focus on me that I realized Aisha probably wasn’t kidding about the bet.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nothing exciting, I just haven’t been getting much sleep,” I answered.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ha! I win! I told you it would be some boring shit like that,” Aisha crowed before getting cut off.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Not yet you don’t. You were specific. How long, Rain?” Kayla asked. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Uh, since Tuesday night I guess.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kayla’s face fell and she slid the cash over to Aisha, who was grinning smugly. I wouldn’t begrudge her the money but I was making this a victory that cut both ways. It was about time I was the one teasing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Been paying close attention to me, Aisha? I’m flattered,” I said wryly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah what gives, <em> Aisha </em>?” Kayla said, leading the charge. It didn’t take long for the rest of the table to start poking fun at Aisha’s new crush on the insomniac. Once it was clear I had derailed things enough I let myself zone out until the end of lunch.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>All too soon Saturday morning arrived and with it my debut. I was taking the last of my free time leading up to the press conference and using it to hide in the workshop as I put the finishing touches on my costume. Luckily, there wasn’t much I’d needed to do. The outside appearance of my costume was largely unchanged from my designs since the extra armor that I got saddled with wound up being a lining made of PRT issue chain mesh and a pair of bracers that matched the rest of my armor. At this point, all that was left for me to do was add a few last minute touches to my tinker tech. I finished reclosing the outer shell to my helmet and called over to Chris where he was working on the other side of the lab.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey, is it cool if I borrow you for a minute? I need a second opinion on something,” I asked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sure. Just give me one second, I need to finish soldering something.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I’d already put on my costume, and now it was time that I layered on the tech. I lifted the first device off of the workbench and looked it over once more. Chris had insisted that naming a finished project was important, and once the approval came in for my central interface he demanded that I give it an official name. So the Nerve Center had been born. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>I secured it into place behind my neck and fired it up, feeling the connections to my tech roll in. The cracks began to light up as I powered on my arms and I secured them to the bracers of my costume. Using all four hands I put on both halves of my helmet in a single movement before pulling my hood up over it. The crack on the faceplate cast a small light on the inside of the hood and my helmet's UI began to glow in the periphery of my vision.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Chris spun his chair around to face me.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So what do you need an opinion on?” he asked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When I answered him my voice came out through my mask, its pitch altered and made to sound slightly robotic.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Does this sound okay or am I going to frighten children?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hmm, maybe tone back the robo-voice a bit. You don’t sound human enough.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I shifted the tone slightly through the connection in my helmet.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How about now?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Better. Wait, you can change it at will?” he asked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, it's all linked up to my helmet’s computer. I can change volume and stuff too.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A grin worked its way onto Chris’s face.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Okay, can you lower the robot part a little bit more, make the voice way deeper and up the input sensitivity?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Weirdly specific, but yeah.” I changed out the settings as he’d asked. “Like this?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Chris began to laugh. His plan clicked in my head as soon as I took a breath and heard the sound leave my helmet. Chris started to laugh even harder when he heard it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ha ha,” I replied. I decided I might as well play into it and brought out a blade as I spoke. “Join me, Chris, and together we shall rule the galaxy.” I had one of my arms clench its fist with a metallic clink as I spoke. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ahem.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I couldn’t help but start slightly at the sound of someone at the door to the workshop. Gallant was leaning on the doorframe, shaking his head at the two of us.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“While I’m sure this is entirely necessary to the tinkering process, I’m afraid I have to disrupt your recruitment pitch, Darth Precipice. I’ve been sent to get you. The higher ups want you at Protectorate HQ early, so let’s roll. The sooner you finish up there, the sooner I can take you for your first patrol,” he said. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> How many fucking people know about Star Wars? I thought Gil was overblowing it. Is this what being in on the reference is like? </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Uh,” I realized my voice was still set to the wrong settings and changed it back to the previous set up. “Alright, give me just one second.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I grabbed the pouches that held the rest of my supplies for going into the field. They currently amounted to one first aid kit with tourniquets—I had no intention of going out and lopping off villain’s limbs but I’d gained a strong respect for the need to carry such things after Cryptid had saved my life with his own supplies—and a pair of disc shaped restraint devices Aegis had given me. I secured them to my belt and I was set to go.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Time to face the masses,” I said, trying to clamp down on the nervous feeling in my gut. “I’ll catch you later, Chris.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He nodded as he turned back to his project.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ll be the one on console today so you’ll be hearing from me in a bit. Knock em dead, Rain. And remember, you can’t do any worse than Dennis.” </p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Other cities like New York or Los Angeles tended to make new additions to their rosters into an event with swathes of media and merchandising right out the gates, but that wasn’t how they did things in Brockton Bay—at least that was what Malcolm told me during our meeting on Friday. Today would be a more muted affair, with only a handful of prescreened reporters and their camera crews being allowed in for what amounted to us announcing ourselves to the city accompanied by a small display of power.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Since Gilpatrick was a thinker today’s display of power fell squarely on my shoulders. Luckily for me that meant I wouldn’t have to do much talking and could instead keep my words brief which I appreciated since I wasn’t really comfortable speaking to the public. My experience with it was limited to my friends getting grilled on Hard Boil, arguing with Gary Nieves in front of a crowd, and my court hearing—none of which had gone very smoothly and had left a pretty bad taste in my mouth. I still remembered how after the Hard Boil interview one guy email bombed us to demand that we fuck ourselves with a rake. That sort of thing left an impression.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I understood that a lack of communication could lead to even more volatile situations, but due to my past I had never been the guy you sent to handle the communicating if you wanted things to go smoothly. That had me feeling a sort of dread as Gallant led me through the Protectorate's base. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How did your debut go?” I asked, hoping to take my mind off of my own.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It was normal as these things go. I went on stage, sent out a few blasts of my power, and spoke to the reporters for a few minutes.” Gallant gave me a brief sidelong glance before continuing like he’d never stopped talking. “To be honest, so long as you don’t do anything crazy the reporters are likely to gloss over you in favor of Evince. New Protectorate members are bigger news than a new Ward.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, you’re right,” I told him, even though it did little to make me feel less nervous.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>We approached a set of double doors that was flanked by a pair of PRT officers.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, this is your stop,” Gallant said. “I’ll meet you after the conference. And don’t showboat too long, we’re meeting someone on patrol and we really don’t want to keep her waiting.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Before I could ask who we were meeting he clapped a hand on my shoulder and walked off. I almost hesitated by the door, but I didn’t want to stand awkwardly in front of the officers, so I went inside. I took stock of who was present as I walked in. Director Piggot and Deputy Director Renick were both there, and on the other side of the room Malcolm was talking to Gilpatrick. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was the first time I’d got a look at his costume and in my opinion it wasn’t too shabby. It looked like he was going for a sort of noir detective spin on PRT officer gear: he wore a long tan coat over a black armored vest and a shirt made of white chain mesh. The pants and boots both were standard PRT issue, while the mask looked like the only bespoke part of the ensemble. It was made of a black reflective material and was wrapped around his head with harsh angular lines where panels of the helmet met each other.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey, it’s about time I got to see this get up. Are you ready to address the crowd?” I asked as I approached.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Of course. We’ve just been waiting on you,” he told me.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He’s not kidding,” Malcolm added. “Just let me fix a few things.” He started adjusting the placement of my hood and made me shift the pouches on my belt to be more evenly spaced. “Remember, don’t go off script with this—there will be better times for you to talk with a reporter and make any mistakes—You’ll want to keep today short and sweet.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I nodded in response and that seemed enough for him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ma’am, you’re set to take the stage whenever you are ready,” he told the director before turning back to me. “You and Evince go wait by your entrance and I will give you your cue.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Alright, let’s get moving, Precipice.” Gilpatrick said as he led us into position. On our side the doors were wide open but the doorway was sealed by a wall of metal blocking the stage on the other side.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are you excited?” he asked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“More like terrified,” I admitted.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“After everything you’ve done, this is making you nervous?” Gilpatrick whispered, his voice colored with disbelief. “Don’t worry about this, I’ll do most of the talking. You’ve just got to give us a good entrance and tell them who you are.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Before I could answer Malcolm called from the edge of the hallway.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Now!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I tossed my blades at the wall before kicking against the cracks knocking it open. The metal slammed against the floor and Gilpatrick and I stepped through the opening to the flash of cameras.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“These two are the latest additions to the East-Northeast line up, I’ll let them introduce themselves,” Director Piggot said as she ceded the podium to us. Once Gilpatrick and I reached it he gave me a subtle nudge, I read his intention.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> You’re up first. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stepping up to the microphone, I hopped a few inches into the air and froze myself so the podium didn’t dwarf me as badly. Scanning the crowd, I saw there were around two dozen reporters arrayed in the seats before me. I took in a deep breath and focused on keeping my voice steady before I spoke.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ll be giving my all to make our city safe. I don’t have any pretty words for you, I will let my actions going forward say everything they need to. My name is Precipice and I hope to serve you all admirably. Thank you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I dropped back to the floor and stepped back from the podium. I stood at attention alongside the director, but my mind was elsewhere. Thoughts of the coming gang war, Leviathan, and the Slaughterhouse 9 swam through my head.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Time will tell if I can deliver on that. </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Cleave - 2.4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>‘Hey Stealthy did you fucking die or something? It’s been three whole months.’ It’s ok we’re all thinking it. I am in fact alive so that’s a plus. A rough winter and a health scare threw me off my rhythm but I’m happy to report that has all passed and I’m back on my game. As the long wait may have hinted, this chapter was really frustrating for me, but as with most things there was a silver lining. Any time I was having a bad day—writing or otherwise—I would go back through the comments y’all have left on this story and it made things a little better. So seriously thank you for all the kind words, I know I do a poor job of responding to them but they mean more to me than you might think. And speaking of appreciation, Thank you to Juff and Gabe24 for helping with the editing, thank you to all my homies on the Cauldron discord for continuing to support and encourage me, and from the bottom of my heart thank you for reading.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>After the conference had ended, Gallant sent me a text letting me know that he was waiting for me in the same PRT van we’d arrived in. I wound up taking the long way around to avoid any reporters that were dragging their feet leaving the base. It took me a couple minutes longer than it would have otherwise, but I made it to the van without getting accosted by the press. I opened up the door to the vehicle and stepped in to find Gallant sitting with his feet up across his bench and messing around on his phone. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Comfy over there?” I asked before settling on the opposite bench in the same way.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gallant stopped tapping away to look up at me.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You tell me,” he said, as he set his feet on the ground and pivoted to knock on the window to the cab. The window slid open and Gallant spoke. “We’re good to head out, could you take us to the north end by the Boardwalk?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I didn’t hear a reply, but Gallant closed the window so I figured they gave him some affirmative gesture. He sat back onto the bench, reading his cellphone for a moment before sliding it between two panels in his armor. I took that as an invitation to make conversation.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So what’s the plan for today? You’ve been awfully vague about who we’re going to be meeting,” I said, with a hint of accusation. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gallant was hard for me to read with the helmet blocking his face, but the way he shifted slightly in his seat was a small tell that he was feeling a little sheepish.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to string you along or anything, I just figured it could be a fun surprise. We’re going to be patrolling from the Boardwalk back down to HQ after meeting up with Glory Girl. Have you heard of her?” he asked.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The humor in that question wasn’t lost on me, but as the amusement swept through me it was cut short by a realization that was going to make the rest of my day more than a little stressful.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m going to go see Victoria—who I have no business being attached to—with an empath who would absolutely notice that… Fuck. </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Double fuck stop worrying while he’s looking at you!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah I’m familiar. She’s on that family team here in town, right? The ones who don’t wear masks?” I asked, feigning uncertainty that I prayed wasn’t betrayed by my feelings.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s right. On your first day, when I mentioned someone who could help you with your aura power, she’s who I was talking about. Her patrolling with us is mostly an excuse to introduce the two of you and give you a chance to see how you mesh.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As he spoke, I felt a strong wave of nostalgia. I found it a little funny too; my second time meeting Vic was going to be so similar to the first it was almost comforting. I reined myself back in before I let myself fall too deep in thought. The more I focused on the present, the less likely it was that I’d dwell on memories and feel things with any noticeable intensity.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So this is a sort of meet the coach scenario? I can do that. Is there anything I should know ahead of time?” I said, fishing for information I could lean on without raising any suspicion.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Like what exactly?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know—hobbies, interests, touchy subjects? Just stuff to talk about while we patrol.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gallant just barely tilted his head as he spoke.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You can just ask her yourself, you know. She won’t bite, Precipice, she’s a friend.” He sounded a little perplexed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She was a friend and that was the problem. I might know too much and could let something slip mid conversation. On the other end of things, five years was long enough for a person to completely change. Missy had been my friend too—even if only due to how much time we both spent with Byron—but in the end it didn’t matter that I’d known her, I still managed to ruin meeting her. Ever since the spar with Aegis she had barely said a word to me. That hurt even if there was no reason I should have expected anything different.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I really didn’t want to ruin this too.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>We fell into an uneasy quiet as I tried to shake the worries that were taking hold inside me. It was quickly becoming evident to me that my experience dealing with Mama Mathers wasn’t translating all that well into my current situation. Outthinking her power came far more easily to me than trying to trick Gallant’s. The longer I wrestled with my feelings the more certain I was that my only protection was Gallant’s sense of politeness. I clung to that fragile hope until Gallant removed his helmet. There was an audible hiss from the mechanism as the pressure left the helmet’s seal. Concern was clear on his face.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So that’s how you’re feeling?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I bit back the impulse to shoot off a scathing remark. It was starting to become clear to me that barely sleeping while under lots of stress wasn’t doing my personality any favors. With a deep breath I reminded myself that he didn't deserve any flack for worrying about a teammate, even if I was now certain his empathic ass already knew exactly how I felt. Not wanting to answer his question, I asked him one of my own—the first that came to mind.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Tell me, Gallant. Do you believe in second chances?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That caught him flat footed and I couldn’t help but take a small amount of pleasure in that fact. His expression changed into one of confusion as he seemed to weigh the question in his mind.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not sure—broadly I suppose I do—why do you ask?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m asking because I don’t. Not completely, anyway. Actions have consequences and people don’t forget things so easily. The only way to deal is doing things right the first time,” I told him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That was something that life had made sure to impart on me. I’d seen it from how people treated the capes after Gold Morning right down to the little everyday occurrences of my youth. As far back as I could remember I’d never seen an honest to God second chance, only attempts at them. The shadow of whatever had created the need for another chance would always hang over everything that followed. Which brought me to why that question was so close to hand—since I’d come back every moment I let myself be still I could hardly stop thinking about it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You’ve been living on a second chance, your sins have been forgotten and the slate is wiped clean. How the fuck is that fair to all the people you hurt? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I think I get it now. This is about Monday then?” It hadn’t been a conscious idea, but once he pointed it out I couldn’t pretend it was entirely unconnected. It was also a good reminder that he only knew what I was feeling, not why I felt it. I didn’t try to correct him. After all, he wasn’t even wrong about that bothering me. I’d only had one shot to prove myself and I blew it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t need a second chance, Precipice.” Gallant paused for a moment as though he was putting the words together in his mind. “I think how you introduced yourself was…honest. You walked right up to us and said you wanted to make a difference. You got some pushback and you showed your colors right there and then.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And what were those?” I asked apprehensively. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re a fighter,” he said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Don’t let some less than perfect meeting get you down, alright? Give the others some time to warm up to you. It’s not my place to share details, but they have their own stuff going on. Their being distant has nothing to do with you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I wanted to contest that—tell him he was wrong about me and the others had seen what he didn’t—but the conviction in his words cut through all of it. I was reminded of the few occasions Victoria or Missy had talked about Gallant in front of me; they’d always spoken so highly of him and I was beginning to understand what they had meant.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re something else, man,” I told him, unable to find the right words to get across the feeling. I supposed it didn’t matter if I couldn’t verbalize it; he could see it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The van slowed to a full stop and stayed there. Gallant slid on his helmet and the window to the front cab opened again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re here,” the driver said succinctly before reclosing the window.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, let’s get going.” Gallant said, as he opened the van's doors.</span>
</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The Boardwalk was an interesting departure from the rest of the city. Where everywhere else you could find spots that were noticeably rough around the edges, this narrow strip of stores was downright polished by comparison. The wooden walkways and fancy boutiques were bustling with people, and a few stopped to gawk at us as we passed them. I even saw one girl snap a photo with her cellphone. It was jarring getting that kind of response. I knew things had been different before Gold Morning, but seeing regular people show unabashed enthusiasm for capes was something I’d never really experienced.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gallant was completely unconcerned as he led me through the throng of people, giving polite waves and nods to passersby without breaking his stride. I tentatively followed his lead, waving briefly before doing my best to not just completely fold in on myself. There was no roof and everything was open air, but between its crowds and tight packed storefronts its layout was close enough to a mall that my brain hadn’t gotten the memo that they were different things.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I took slow controlled breaths and focused on putting one foot in front of the other as I kept pace with Gallant, doing my best to ignore our surroundings by locking my eyes on the horizon. A couple of minutes later I was pulled out of my head by a hand on my shoulder. Gallant had stopped walking.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s in here,” he explained as he nodded over to a café.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, gotcha. Sorry, I was a little lost in thought,” I offered as an excuse, but with his mask in the way I had no clue how little he’d bought it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Once we were inside the first thing I did was scan the room for Victoria. It didn’t take long for me to lay eyes on her. She was sitting in the corner farthest from the storefront’s large windows, scrolling on a smartphone with a cup of what I figured was iced tea based on her usual tastes. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I’d had it described to me before, but this was the first time I had ever seen her Glory Girl costume. It was in many ways the inversion of what she had worn as Antares: predominantly white where the other costume was black, and instead of the hood and mask the only thing she wore on her head was a tiara. Victoria’s expression was almost carefree compared to the thoughtful expressions I’d seen her make so frequently.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Taking it all in I was surprised by how I felt. Knowing what had happened to her and comparing the woman I knew to the girl in front of me, I was left feeling hollow. How starkly different the impression I got was—it felt sad in a way I couldn’t fully put my finger on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Victoria looked up from her phone and as she noticed us a smile spread across her face; not the one she used when dealing with crowds or officials, it was the genuine kind that she usually reserved for when she was in private among close friends. A rare sight—well, at least for me.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>She got up from her table to meet us halfway. She finished the last of her drink on her way over, and as she threw it out she spoke.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Hey Gallant,” she greeted with a friendly lilt to her voice. “So this is your new friend then?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I hesitated instead of introducing myself so Gallant picked up the slack for me.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He is. Let’s walk and talk.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He turned on his heel and started to stride back outside. Victoria moved with him without missing a beat, leaving me trailing behind the two of them. It seemed life wasn’t without small mercies; Gallant led us straight across the wooden path and into the less polished streets of the Docks. Once I got back into step with them I introduced myself.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m Precipice”—I extended one of my metal hands to Victoria—“It’s nice to meet you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She shook the hand and l belatedly realized that it might have been rude to offer tech instead of my flesh and blood hand, but if Vic was bothered she didn’t show it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Glory Girl. And the same to you. I’ve heard good things,” she told me</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You have?” I said the words before I realized they had even left my mouth. In an attempt to not linger on my outburst I hurriedly tried to move the conversation along.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, well you have me at a disadvantage. Gallant was all hush hush about details before this so I don’t know much more about you than a google search on the local capes told me,” I lied. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The act was necessary, but right out the gate it wasn’t sitting right with me. If the whole conversation was going to be like this I was in for a long patrol. Despite the rundown nature of our surroundings I wasn’t anticipating any criminal activity in the broad daylight, so short of being saved by very foolish criminals I would have to figure out a way to keep this up without constantly lying to my friend for a few hours.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It wasn’t anything personal, don’t worry about that. He only told me about your powers.” She leaned closer to me and stage whispered. “You impressed him, but you didn’t hear that from me.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ya don’t say.” Gallant valiantly didn’t rise to the bait, leaving me to carry my own weight in this conversation. I grasped at the first subject that came to mind. “So, Glory Girl, Gallant said we have a power in common—at least one that’s similar enough for you to offer me some help with it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s right. He mentioned you can create an aura that affects emotions; I have one of my own. It can cause someone to feel awe or fear depending on the context.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I nodded along with her words to avoid having to feign the appropriate reaction to the information. Rather than respond directly I offered the details of my own abilities.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mine pushes buttons. It covers an area with a feeling like regret, anxiety, or doubt—that sort of stuff. It takes a while to ramp up, but I can get an idea of how someone is responding to it or even sense their location.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Victoria took a moment to absorb the information. Her brow furrowed slightly and her eyes were focused like they were looking somewhere far off; it was an expression that was quintessentially her. That took the edge off the silence for me.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Good to know you’re still in there.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It would have been stupid of me to assume that she wasn’t as sharp as ever, but the sight of that familiar look was just the thing to reassure me that I wasn’t dealing with a stranger. The thought struck me that talking shop on cape stuff might be my best bet for talking with Victoria and not feel like I was dancing around knowing too much. She had files on half the capes in North America back on Gimel and I always figured that interest must have run deep for her to have such a library. Hell, even though she wasn’t attending the university she had managed to get a couple of her papers published a month back. If the buzz from the Wardens’ research teams about her work was anything to go by she could be well on her way to becoming Antares PhD, if she put in a couple years of jumping through bureaucratic hoops. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You said ‘an area’. Is it centered on you or does it manifest differently? And what’s the upper limit for the space you can cover?” Victoria rattled off the questions with genuine enthusiasm. So it seemed I hadn’t made a bad call. I wasn’t out of the woods yet, but suddenly the conversation felt doable.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I smiled behind my mask and before launching into a rundown on my power a thought ran through my head.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Vic, I take back every time I thought your power studies were nerdy. Consider me converted, I’ve seen the light.  </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The power talk had served me better than I could have hoped. We had started with the master power, but as the patrol continued we wound up working through the others as well. It kept Victoria’s attention, letting me talk freely with her, and even pick her brain on some ways I could use my powers' new abilities. Unfortunately, as time wore on the topic lost steam and I had to face the fact that I wasn’t going to get a whole patrol out of it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Once we had reached a proper lull in the conversation I started to wrack my brain for topics to bring up. As we walked along in silence it seemed Vic had another idea.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m going to swing back around real quick. I saw something a couple blocks back—it might be nothing—but it isn’t sitting right with me,” Victoria said.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Got it. If there’s time, call us before acting and we’ll meet you there,” Gallant said.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Victoria nodded and launched off the pavement, flying back down the street just above the roofline.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You sounded pretty certain that she’d find something there,” I noted.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gallant shrugged.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“She does this sometimes and she’s been right often enough that it's easier to just plan to back her up. While we’ve got a second alone, are you doing good with this? It seems like you two hit it off,” Gallant said.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I guess so. You could have actually talked a bit more though. I think I get what you were trying to do, but you didn’t need to leave me to fend for myself,” I groused.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry. Believe it or not that wasn’t intentional. I was just enjoying someone else being an outlet for her cape science stuff. It’s cool and all, but not really my th—” Gallant cut off mid word as his phone rang. He slid it out from its spot within his armor and answered, and he must have conferenced me in because the call notification lit up in the corner of my HUD. I picked up and made to go follow Victoria.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Glory Girl, what’s going on?” Gallant asked.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Remember that warehouse with the maintenance workers outside? When we walked by them they froze up and kept glancing at us, so I wanted to double check things were normal. They’re breaking in. There’s only five of them, but it looks like at least one of them is armed.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Where are you? Gallant and I are on our way.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m on a rooftop across the street, the building with the bodega on the bottom floor.”</span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I ended the call on my helmet and started to scan the roofline for a good place to land.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Gallant, I’m going to meet Glory Girl on the roof.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, call this in to Kid,” Gallant ordered. “I’m going to get closer to the suspects. I’ll move in once you guys engage, follow her lead, Precipice.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It didn’t take me long to spot the building Victoria was on. I didn’t want to give away her location so I took a less direct route. I jumped and had my power carry me up until I landed on the top of the nearest building. As soon as my feet hit the ground I ran, hopping across the gap onto the next roof with another four to go until I made it to Victoria. I radioed in as I made my way over.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Precipice to console, you hear me?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Loud and clear, Precipice. What’s going on?” Kid Win asked.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Found five guys breaking and entering at a warehouse on”—I peered over the roofs edge to spot a street sign—“Spruce Ave. They appear unpowered, one may be armed, Gallant and I are going to engage with Glory Girl.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I hoped I’d remembered the right way to call it in. Kid Win’s response was fast and short.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Acknowledged. Be careful out there.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I crossed the remaining buildings as quietly as I could and once I’d made it to my destination I crouched down low and moved to the spot Vic was at. There was a clear view from there down to the warehouse and the men breaking in. One stood at the door and it looked to me like he was messing with the lock while the others were milling around waiting on him. They were all wearing gray jumpsuits and had various tools in hand. Not the worst disguise, but it was hindered by how long their guy on the door was taking to get them in.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“They must have been at this for a while now. Seems like they’re amateurs,” I noted to Victoria.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She nodded.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not wrong. I’d bet we’re looking at some Empire hopefuls. This might be a test for their membership,” Victoria said. Her disdain for the men in question was plain and caught me a little off guard. “I want you to start using your aura on them. We can’t move in directly until they actually get inside if we don’t want to muddy the waters for the police, but that means you should have plenty of time to practice what we talked about.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Which one has the gun? I don’t want him to get too shaken up,” I asked.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The bald guy with sunglasses, second from the right. The gun is in his waistband, it popped out when stretched earlier.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I looked at the man, and from the way his hands hovered in the same spot, the gun's position was obvious if you knew what to look for. With him accounted for I layered my power across the group of men. The feedback began to roll in as I sank my hooks into them. Most of the men there were nervous, but it was mixed with anticipation as they stood tense, watching their colleague as he worked over the door’s locks.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Before I started to let loose with the emotions I divided and labeled them in my head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Shades, the one with the gun, was calmer and slightly irritated already so I pushed lightly, and I could feel how it wore away at his composure. If it got far enough he might start to put the pressure on the others. The three guys that were standing off to the side didn’t respond overtly as I layered the power over them. I upped the pressure, but only the one carrying a toolbox really reacted. I could see him start to shift uneasily and he turned to his buddy on the door. He started saying something, but he was too far for me to hear it.  Picks on the other hand heard it clear as day. He was the most stressed of the bunch as he worked away at the door, and as I increased that stress he trembled slightly, which must have made picking the locks even harder for him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I let that pressure build for a moment and thought back to the advice Vic had given me—both past and present—about how people reacted differently to powers like ours. The differences in each person made it feel kind of like watching a bunch of differently sized pots of water come to a boil, with me controlling the temperature heating each one. The last time I’d used my power with it this amped up I’d had to keep things subtle and slow like I wanted those pots to all come to a simmer, until everything inside evaporated. In this case I just needed one to come to a full boil. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I unconsciously raised my hand toward the toolbox guy as I hit him with as much power as I could. The response was strong and I saw him turn and begin to harp on Picks again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you doing with your hand?” Victoria asked, breaking my concentration.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Instinct,” I ground out before reining my irritation in. The longer it went on, the more  it became clear to me that even without the personality bleed riling me up, dragging people around by their emotions wasn’t something I would ever enjoy. It was dirty, a little like eavesdropping on someone who trusted you. Tampering with others’ hearts made me feel more like Satan than a hero, but it was what I got stuck with, so I’d have to make it work.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I returned my attention to Picks; the sooner he got into that building the sooner I could stop. His movements were clear to me through the silhouette he cast where my power covered him. When Love Lost had boosted my abilities I had a decent idea of where people were in a space, but after coming back if I focused hard enough on it the level of detail was so clear it felt like I was looking right at them. I focused all my attention on the movement of his hands picking the lock and I did my best to improve his performance. It would have been overselling myself to say I was anything more than a novice, but I had learned how to open simple locks from the Fallen during the bad old days and that was enough to give me an idea of where he was messing up.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Once I started spiking my power’s intensity to highlight every mistake it didn’t take him much longer to get in. I practically sighed with relief as I saw the door swing open; it had probably only taken a couple of minutes for each lock on the door but it had felt a lot longer.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“They’re in. Glory Girl, if you handle the crowd I’ll deal with Shades there, Gallant said he’ll back us up once we move in. Sound good?” I asked.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A grin crossed Victoria’s face.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. Let’s get 'em,” she said and launched off the roof.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Following behind her I leapt over the edge and let my mover power carry me across the street until I was above my target. I dropped down and stopped myself just short of touching the pavement. Shades had already drawn his gun and was training it on Vic. My hands flew out and gripped the slide of the pistol. As metal fingers found the release I yanked and heard a snap as some small internal components broke away with the slide, taking the gun out of the fight.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Shades wasn’t too happy with me after that. I dodged back as he went to punch me, and before I could close the distance again a large ball of blue light slammed directly into his face, knocking him off his balance. Hoping to finish the job I launched at him, aided by my mover power. My shoulder connected and he fell to the ground in a twisting half spin landing on his stomach. I quickly fished one of the restraint discs from my pouch and secured his hand to his ankle and set it to coil, leaving him in a sort of half hogtie.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I turned my attention to the rest of the fight to find that it was already over. The men were lying in crumpled heaps on the ground, moaning and wailing. Vic was hovering above them with a no parking sign in her hands like a club.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Agh! My Arm! You fucking bitch!” Picks shrieked out.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Victoria scowled and lowered herself back to the ground as she approached him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re fine, Skinhead-to-be, I didn’t swing hard enough to break anything. Now just stay down and tell me what your boss wanted with this place.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hauling himself into an upright position with his remaining good arm, he spat at Victoria. I expected her to maybe hit him with her aura as she tried to talk it out, and if he wouldn’t talk, just leave it at that and wait for the police to show up. That wasn’t what happened. Vic dropped her sign and grabbed him by the collar before she flew straight up about ten feet in the air.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What was that? I didn’t hear you.” The threat was plain as day.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, that’s a little different. Yikes.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I turned to find Gallant and hurried to his side.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, fuck. Say something man,” I pleaded to him, unsure if Glory Girl would heed my words if I tried.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Glory Girl, could you bring him back down here?” Gallant called up to her. “Precipice can’t tie him up with the others until you do. We can let the police handle the detective work on this one.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Glory Girl acquiesced, lowering them both back down before she let him drop to the ground in front of a telephone pole.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d stay put if you know what’s good for you,” she offered as a parting threat and started to help Gallant move the rest of them to the same spot.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I awkwardly stood next to the men and fiddled with my remaining restraint disc, waiting for them all to be lined up. Once the last man was in place I secured them arm to arm like a chain gang before securing the two ends to the pole and had the restraint retract, holding them against it. After that I milled about, not entirely sure of what I should have been doing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I settled on reporting back to HQ. My opening sounded closer to a question.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Precipice to console?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve got me,” Kid Win answered. “What’s your status?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, the fights all wrapped up. We’re just waiting on the police to get here, do you have an ETA from them?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, they should be there in about five minutes. Busy first day huh?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re telling me. The only plus side is I bet if the news reports on this Malcolm might finally get back to me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I let myself fall into conversation with Kid Win. It was easier than dwelling on how things had just played out. I was dealing with Victoria for sure, but it seemed Glory Girl had a lot of lessons to learn before she was the same hero I’d known.</span>
</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After the police picked up the men and we gave our statements, Gallant and I parted ways with Glory Girl. The rest of our patrol managed to be uneventful and decidedly awkward as I wrestled with the disconnect between my friend who had been a hero and mentor to me, with the person I had met. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I’d thought I was ready to deal with the differences winding back the clock had created, but it seemed I’d been over estimating myself. I couldn’t stop thinking about how angry she’d been. I’d seen Victoria stay more composed yanking a fetus out of her throat and we were only dealing with common street thugs. It didn’t feel right to me. On the other end of things she had seemed more self assured, happier even, and knowing why that had changed made that a bitter pill to swallow.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>In an attempt to distract myself I filled out my report and ran maintenance on my gear in the lab, but my thoughts kept spiraling right back and a selfish impulse reared its head over and over.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You won’t have to worry about this once you bring her back.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Objectively it was true—she’d be exactly how I knew her—but deep down I knew being flippant about overwriting her memories was wrong. Besides, what would be the point of preventing all the awful stuff if I brought her back anyway?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>How would that even go? ‘Thank you Rain, for dragging me back to just before the worst time of my life. This isn’t traumatizing at all.’ Yeah, really helping her there. At least the others have something to gain from being brought back.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Between worrying and accomplishing damn near nothing I burned enough time for Gilpatrick to text and tell me he had wrapped up for the day and was on his way to get me. I cleared up my workstation and hung all of the tools back up before I headed out. I’d changed into my regular clothes in the locker room and was about to leave when Kid Win flagged me down from the console, spinning around in his chair to face me.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey Rain, looks like you’ll be hearing about that merch after all. Keep an eye out for tomorrow’s copy of the Bulletin. Renick said that their reporters were calling to get a statement about you. It sounds like your first arrest is gonna get some coverage,” he told me.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh, well let’s hope they like what they find,” I said, probably more pessimistic than Kid had been hoping for, judging by the look he gave me. “Anyways, I’m headed home. Talk to you later?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah for sure. Get some rest, alright? You look beat.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll try,” I lied. There was still too much work to do and I’d be losing an hour of sleep no matter what when the clock jumped forward.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Forcing a smile, I turned on my heel and gave him a wave as I headed out. It was silent as I walked through the PRT HQ and made my way to Gil’s car in the garage. I all but collapsed into my seat as the car door slammed shut behind me.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I heard you had a big day today. You didn’t take the record for the shortest time from debut to first arrest, but I’ve been told you made the top ten,” Gilpatrick said. “And a few pictures cropped up online from the crime scene; Victoria was with you?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah…” I started before trailing off, unsure of how to talk about it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gilpatrick swung the car around and started the drive back to the house.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Judging by your silence I take it things weren’t ideal,” he said.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s different, Gil. Like, it’s still clearly her, right, but she… I don’t know. Maybe it’s stupid to feel like this, but she isn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>our</span>
  </em>
  <span> Vic. She’s not Antares.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Should she be?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” I said without thinking. “Er, no. I don’t know... I want her to be and I think that’s pretty shitty of me. When I look around the city and see all the problems it’s facing and knowing everything that’s on the way and I can’t help but feel like she would know how to deal with it if we brought her back.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re probably right, she was here on the ground when things went to hell so she’d know better than we do. You want some back up and miss your friend, what's wrong with that? ”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I scowled as I tried to put words to the root of the feeling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Even assuming that I can bring her back safely, isn’t the Vic that’s here now a different person? I’d be forcing five years worth of unnecessary trauma on her because I'm selfish. It feels like I’m taking the easy way out instead of doing this right.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think that any option we have could be called the easy way out.” Gil offered. “The fact of the matter is it wouldn’t be unnecessary since we could use the help. We’ve talked about this, it’s all hands on deck right now. This is bigger than us.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know that!” I snapped, immediately regretting it. “Sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When I started to speak again it was hardly a whisper.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck, I’m so tired. I thought it would be easier to commit to bringing her back if I thought about it logically, but it’s not doing me much good.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>We sat in silence, eventually we hit a red light and as the car slowed to a halt Gilpatrick spoke.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s alright. You have a while before Victoria is an immediate concern, so don’t let it get to you. If you want to mull it over until it’s right down to the wire that’s completely fair. We have more pressing matters to deal with anyways, so for now let’s just worry about the Undersiders and figure everything else out afterwards.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, ok, focus on them. Six days to go. I’m almost done with the prep and then we have a few days to make our plan.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I can manage that. One job and we’ll have someone to help lighten the load.</span>
  </em>
</p>
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